


Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not

by Mystical_Knight_Dragon



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, And real science, Blow Jobs, Boss/Employee Relationship, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Ethical Dilemmas, Explicit Sexual Content, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, Hand wavy science, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mentions of unhealthy previous relationships, Miscommunication, Peter and Tony are idiots, Peter is in his late 20s, Phone Sex, Porn With Plot, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Shower Sex, Smut, Tony is in his late 40s, What's the opposite of slow burn, cumming on clothes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:08:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28052202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystical_Knight_Dragon/pseuds/Mystical_Knight_Dragon
Summary: It must be a new record, Peter thought bitterly, for a new employee to be called into HR less than three hours after starting a new position.A stern-looking woman with hair pulled up in a tight, white bun glared at him over her glasses. “Mr. Parker,” she started.Peter burst into tears. “I’m being fired l, aren’t I?”Without even waiting for him to compose himself, she said, “Tell me, Mr. Parker, did you have any idea who Mr. Stark was before meeting him in the office today?”Groaning, Peter buried his head in his hands. Yep, he was definitely getting fired. Who didn’t recognize Tony Stark on sight? Except for Peter Parker, apparently. “I know it sounds hard to believe, but I honestly didn’t know it was him at the club on Friday. He introduced himself as Tony, and how was I supposed to guess a billionaire CEO would be at Bottom Feeders?”---Tony and Peter hit it off at the club only to find out Peter works at SI.Updates Thursdays!
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 97
Kudos: 314





	1. I Bet You Look Good on the Dance Floor

**Author's Note:**

> Story title and chapter titles from Arctic Monkeys songs and albums.

“Screwdriver, please,” Peter shouted over the pounding club music. He rested on his forearms against the bar and added, “A double.”

He could feel eyes on him, and he hid his smile behind his hand. Tonight, he was celebrating his new promotion, so he had taken special care on his appearance. When he and MJ had found this pair of leather pants on the clearance rack at H&M, they had jumped for joy…even more so when they fit him perfectly. The pants looked more like he was wearing a layer of paint than actual clothing—though he was pretty sure the guy across the bar really  _ was  _ only wearing paint. He rounded out the look with a black fishnet halter top, a black armband, and black boots. His ears weren’t pierced, so he wore magnetic barbells.

The part of him that wore suits to work and cardigans to brunch felt like he had stepped directly out of an AFI music video from 2006 and begged to go home and change, but the part of him that caught a glance of his ass in any reflective surface knew he had made the right choice.

As he drank, a slender brunette approached and lounged casually against the bar, resting on his elbows, his body facing the dance floor. Peter resisted the urge to sneak a peek, still undecided whether he wanted to bring anyone home or just…show off.

“A psychologist friend of mine calls it ‘context blindness.’ I’m fairly certain I’ve seen you before, but I just can’t remember where…”

Peter glanced over and took in the man’s pristinely shaped facial hair. He was much older than someone Peter would typically go for, but he was attractive enough Peter found he didn’t mind. He was wearing a black long sleeve shirt under a Metallica T-shirt and black skinny jeans with high tops.

The man was still talking as Peter took in the way his arms and chest stretched at the fabric of his shirt, conveying muscle underneath. “…but those pants I think I would remember. Holy fuck, your pants are—something else.”

In a moment of confidence Peter would never feel outside a club, he tipped his head back and arched an eyebrow cockily. “Buy me a drink.”

To the bartender, the man ordered an old fashioned for himself and another screwdriver for Peter. As they waited for their drinks, the other man let his eyes linger against Peter’s body, a soft smile on his lips. “I’m Tony,” he offered.

“Peter.”

Tony motioned to the dance floor. “Want to dance?”

In one of his less wise moments, before coming out to the club, he had allowed MJ to convince him to “pre drink.” “They overprice everything at clubs,” she had said as she handed him two miniatures of coconut Malibu. “Get tipsy now and thank me later.”

Between the rum and the vodka, Peter was feeling pleasantly buzzed enough to join Tony on the dance floor. He drained the rest of his screwdriver and let Tony lead him by the hand through the writhing throng of bodies.

Music vibrated through his chest with that too loud club bass. Tony kept a polite space between them as he started dancing. Peter watched as Tony’s eyes snaked up and down his body, and Peter didn’t hide that he was doing the same. A new song started, and Peter turned and pressed his back to Tony’s torso. It was firm and warm, and Peter closed his eyes as he leaned back, rocking with the beat of the song.

A pair of hands rested lightly on his sides. “Is this okay?” Tony whispered, his breath tickling Peter’s neck.

“Mmm,” Peter sighed, leaning more firmly against Tony. Grasping Tony’s wrists, he led them more decisively across his stomach and chest. “I would have told you to fuck off if this wasn’t okay.”

Tony’s body grew impossibly warmer against his as his hands continued their dance across Peter’s chest, catching on the netting of his ridiculous shirt. Alcohol continued to thrum through Peter’s veins, keeping him just buzzed enough to make him bold and comfortable. His pants clung to his body, feeling more like a second skin, sliding sensually across his thighs, and he ground back against Tony to the pulsing beat of the song.

Breath hitching at the feeling of such a taut ass pressed against the front of his jeans, Tony rested his chin on Peter’s shoulder, pulling him even more tightly to his body, breath panting hotly against Peter’s earlobe. Peter tilted his head, exposing his neck, and gave a particularly encouraging roll of his hips. Tony’s lips rested against Peter’s neck, and Peter inhaled sharply, taking in Tony’s unique scent of sage and sandalwood. Hands snuck under Peter’s top, and, not feeling particularly attached to the cheap garment, Peter pulled it off and tossed it to the ground. Vibrations rolled through Tony’s chest against Peter’s back as his hands dove into a deep exploration of Peter’s newly exposed skin. Brain short circuiting, Tony sucked harder at the junction of his shoulder and neck than he had intended, knowing the hickey would stand out in sharp contrast on Peter’s pale skin come morning.

The song changed again, and Peter groaned, arching as best he could into both hands and mouth. His eyes were closed, forgetting they weren’t alone, when he guided one of Tony’s hands down to the front of his pants. With a deep groan, Tony rocked his hips desperately against Peter’s ass, cock straining uncomfortably against the fabric of his skinny jeans. Peter was having a similar problem, his leather pants pulled so tight against his erection, Tony could feel the distinct outline—and swore he could trace a vein. He palmed the bulge, impressed by the size, and once more rocked his hips into Peter’s ass.

“To—ny…” Peter’s voice caught on the first syllable, the second half of his name coming out little louder than a whisper. Tony found he liked that more than he should and shamelessly sucked harder at his neck.

Peter’s left hand trailed against his own chest, squeezing his nipple between his fingers, and he threw his head back against Tony’s shoulder, hips still gyrating to the beat as he pressed his pelvis more firmly into Tony’s hand. Without missing a beat, Tony slid his hand into Peter’s pants, the going quite the squeeze against the tight fabric, and gripped the turgid flesh.

“Mmm,” Peter moaned breathily, encouragingly.

“Shit,” Tony hissed, panting heavily against Peter’s shoulder. “You feel so good in my hand. Gonna make you cum, beautiful. That alright?”

In response, Peter rocked his pelvis into Tony’s hand, gasping at the sensation. A nagging voice in the back of his brain insisted they take this somewhere more private, but Peter was beginning to suspect those miniatures of Malibu were more potent than he had anticipated. And the hand expertly fisting his cock meant he was more inclined to stay exactly where he was, ass grinding happily into the firmness behind him.

“Fuck, I’d like to lay you out in a proper bed and take you all the way down my throat. Would you like that, beautiful? Want to fuck daddy’s throat?”

Peter hadn’t thought he’d be into the whole “daddy” thing, but something about the way the word rolled so naturally from Tony’s lips, it was something he could get behind.

“I’d rather have you fuck my tight, pink hole, daddy.”

Tony’s hand tightened against his hip, and the hand on his cock sped up, awkward in the tightness of the leather pants. He had to resist the urge to pull the damn things off. Enough of his brain was working to warn him they had already crossed the line tenfold on the dance floor. While under the clothes groping was fairly common out in the open at this particular club, bouncers tended to get involved if it went further than that—and Tony Stark groaned at the thought of how  _ that  _ headline would look. He already had enough to contend with, especially with his shamelessly out of control days of his youth still shadowing his every movement.

But, fuck, this young thing’s cock felt perfect in his hand. He almost hadn’t approached him, certain he would brush him off as too old. And there was something…familiar about him that he couldn’t quite place. 

Nose pressed in the crook of Peter’s neck, he smelled like grapefruit and sunshine. Peter was letting out short gasps and mewls, thrusting his hips as best he could against Tony’s hand, those fucking  _ tight  _ pants causing his strokes to be uneven and shallow. He squinted at the boy’s neck, and, yeah, there’d be a hickey there tomorrow.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tony watched Happy approach, looking horrendously uncomfortable as he dodged the twisting bodies of the dance floor and refusing to look at Tony’s hand stuffed down Peter’s pants. As Happy drew closer, Tony resignedly withdrew from Peter, pouting as he did so, fully having intended to make him cum in his pants right there on the dance floor.

As Peter recognized the change in Tony’s posture, he seemed to come back to himself, his eyes fluttering open, and he straightened, turning to face Tony, horrified. “Oh, shit—Tony, I—” The blush reached all the way down his chest, and Tony had to hold himself back from running his hands all over it. “I swear I’m not— _ that guy.  _ I don’t—” Peter interrupted himself by glancing around for his shirt. It was currently underneath someone’s foot, being dragged through a lake of spilled beer.

Without overthinking it, Tony shrugged out of his T-shirt, leaving him in his black long sleeve. He handed his shirt over to Peter, who took it awkwardly yet thankfully.

Happy had reached them, and Tony jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Peter, I need to go. I have a business meeting tonight that I can’t put off.”

“Tony, I’m sorry—”

Tony’s shirt hugged Peter’s chest, and he gave into the temptation of pulling Peter against him, pressing himself into Peter’s hip to show how hard he still was. “Shh, Peter, I don’t want to hear any excuses.” He pulled back and smiled down at Peter, who was anxiously chewing his lip. “I want to see you again. And I can”—he stepped back and drew his hands up—“keep my hands to myself, if that’s what you want. It’s whatever you want, Peter, but I’ll be here again next Friday night, nine o’clock.”

Happy was restlessly shifting from foot to foot and glancing at his watch. With a sigh, Tony let Happy lead him out of the club. Once they were settled in the car, Happy glanced in the rearview mirror. “How many anxiety attacks related to second guessing what happened tonight should I expect this week, boss?”

Sinking further into his seat, Tony groaned. “At least fifteen.” He stared at his open palms, still tingling with the feeling of running across Peter. He hoped the boy didn’t regret it at the end; Peter  _ had  _ looked pretty freaked when Happy came over. What if—?

“Starting the first round of second guessing now, Happy,” Tony huffed. “Only fourteen more to go.”

Back at the club, Peter had already called an Uber and was waiting miserably in a cold drizzle. What had he been  _ thinking  _ letting a stranger put a hand down his pants? And on the fucking  _ dance floor _ surrounded by almost a hundred other people?  _ Never  _ had he done anything like that, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if Tony had fucking offered to  _ pay  _ for their night out. Despite this, Peter hugged himself tighter, Tony’s sage and sandalwood scent clinging to the shirt. Shit, if Tony had offered to fuck Peter in the bathroom, he wouldn’t have hesitated.

So would he take Tony up on his offer and meet him at the club again in a week? His body responded eagerly to the idea, but his head wasn’t too sure. Tony didn’t  _ seem  _ like a predator, even backing off when things got out of control, and Peter wondered if it was really true that he had a meeting. Who had meetings at two o’clock in the morning?

Sighing, he sank into the back of the Uber, cradling his head in his hands. Tonight was supposed to be about celebrating his promotion, yet he had managed to make an utter mess of things. In a brief moment of sobriety, he promised himself he’d never take a drink from MJ again.

Said friend was waiting up for him when he reached their apartment. Her jaw dropped before grinning devilishly. “That’s not the shirt you left here with.”

Peter couldn’t resist the smile that spread across his face, and he dipped his head shyly. “I may have gotten a hand job on the dance floor.”

_ “Oh my god!”  _ she squealed. “My opinion of you just, like, skyrocketed. Before this, the craziest thing you’d done is drink that milk one day past its expiration date!”

Peter crinkled his nose. “And I will regret it for the rest of my days.”

“It didn’t even make you sick. You know the expiration date—hey! Tell me more about the handy man. Was he at least cute?”

Another smile and a blush. “He was really fucking hot. His name’s Tony…”

On Monday, Peter spent extra care getting ready. After all, he couldn’t show up to the first day of his new position without looking anything less than spectacular. He wore a gray suit with a lavender shirt and darker purple tie. The new suit had cost nearly as much as the difference in his new paycheck, but when he glanced in the mirror, running a comb through his hair one last time, he knew it was worth it.

MJ wolf whistled when he entered the kitchenette, a plate of eggs and sausage already made and ready for him at his place setting. “Looking extra fine, Peter. I can’t imagine they won’t give you a  _ second  _ promotion just for  _ that ass.”  _ She pointed her camera at Peter, grinning shamelessly. “Give us a pose. Aunt May won’t let you leave here until I get a picture.”

Smiling despite himself, he waved at the camera. “Is this a video? Hi, Aunt May!” He recalled when he first got his job at Barritech, a subsidiary of Stark Industries. Aunt May had taken dozens of pictures, just as she had on his first day of school every year, pasting the polaroids into an enormous photo album. “Love you, Aunt May! Wish me luck!”

MJ turned off the camera and sent the video and pictures to Aunt May while Peter settled down to breakfast.

Across town, Tony Stark was busy rushing through his morning appointments, Pepper hot on his heels, reading his emails as he dictated his replies. His first meeting of the day had to be cut short so he could stick to his tight schedule. There had been a partial merger with a subsidiary, Barritech, and the CEO was a close friend of Tony’s from his MIT days. He wanted at least a minute to greet his old friend as well as the smattering of staff they were acquiring. Pictures of the newest staff members had been sent in an email, and Tony remembered having glanced at it but nothing specific stood out in his memory.

“—At four o’clock, you have a phone conference with CEO Eto Masaru—”

Walking backwards as he tapped quickly on his cellphone, he interrupted Pepper. “Please, tell me you won’t be there for the meeting. Your accent is atrocious. The entire population of Japan has cringed with your horrid pronunciation—”

Pepper scoffed, holding out a clipboard of papers for him to sign. “Oh, because your Japanese is so much better? Please, Tony, we’ve had this fight before—”

Dramatically, Tony drew his finger up to his lips as they made their way towards the sixteenth floor meeting room. “Careful, Pepper. Don’t need the new staff seeing Mommy and Daddy fight on their first day here.”

Rolling her eyes, though smiling, she held the door open for the two of them. Barritech CEO, Aaron Barrett, met them with shining eyes and a firm handshake. “Pepper! Tony! I haven’t seen you since the SI Christmas party!”

Pepper let Barrett draw her in, kissing her cheeks. “Aaron! How is Grace?”

Tony gestured to the rest of the room, arms open and welcoming, though Pepper would always tell him this posture came off as rude and arrogant. “Welcome to Stark Industries! Aaron Barrett and I go way back—”

His eyes alighted on a young man with a coffee frozen halfway to his lips, a look of abject horror on his face. Friday night came rushing back to Tony, and he internally groaned.  _ That’s  _ why he had looked familiar: Barritech had sent those  _ pictures  _ of the new employees!

Shit. Peter was technically already an employee at SI when Tony had put his fucking hand in his pants. If Peter wanted to sue, it could tear down the entirety of Stark Industries. HR would insist on investigating his other employees. And even though Tony didn’t make it a  _ habit  _ of molesting new employees, especially not ones so  _ young,  _ there was no guarantee that in Tony’s younger days, when he routinely got plastered at work events, that he hadn’t—

He was panicking. Of course he was panicking! Who  _ wouldn’t  _ panic in this situation?

Deep breaths. Pretend everything is okay. Then run and find Happy and his fire extinguisher before this situation got further out of control.

Swallowing thickly, hands suddenly humming with the feeling of Peter’s body under his, that cock throbbing in his grasp—

Not helping.

“This is my secretary, Pepper Potts. Whatever you need to make sure your transition to SI is as seamless as possible, Ms. Potts will assure you get it. Pepper will be showing you to your new offices shortly. Now, I’m terribly sorry, but I need to…” Any excuse fled his mind, so he simply left the room, avoiding Pepper’s scathing glare, and dialing Happy’s number as fast as his fingers could fly.

“Happy! Where are you?”

“Right behind you, boss.”

Tony jumped, hand flying to his heart. He spun on his heel and saw Happy was indeed right behind him. Glancing nervously around him, he threw open the door closest to him. Seven confused employees sitting around a meeting room table turned towards Tony. With a grimace, Tony said, “Sorry, but I need to commandeer this room. Take a ten minute bathroom break.”

“Of course, Mr. Stark.”

When the room was empty, Happy turned a sour face toward Tony. “What did you do now?”

Sinking into a chair, Tony ran his hands through his hair, knowing he would mess it up beyond repair. It was fine. He could just take the rest of the day off. Or step down as CEO and leave the company forever. Yeah, that could work. Pepper would be a much better—

Happy looked worried now and drew a chair beside Tony’s. “Tony? What happened? Talk to me.”

“Remember that kid from Friday night?”

Three separate emotions crossed Happy’s face before he was able to cover them with pained neutrality. “Sure, boss. What about him?”

“He works for me?”

_ “What?” _

“He’s one of the new employees from Barritech.”

“And you left him  _ alone?” _

“No, he’s with Pepper.”

“That’s…exceedingly better than being left in your care.” Sighing, he pulled his phone from his pocket. “I need to contact HR. Don’t look at me like that; you know I have to. Tony, tell me, he must have known who you were. We can spin this.”

“I really don’t think he knew who I was. There was no sign of recognition on his face. And I didn’t say my last name. That would have…he would have known then.”

Happy’s stare turned accusatory.  _ “You  _ didn’t know who he was, did you?”

_ “What?  _ Happy,  _ no.  _ Though…I should have. Barrett sent an email with everyone’s pictures, and I thought he looked familiar—”

“Oh, Tony, you are so fucked.”

“Are you alright?”

Peter jerked under Ms. Pott’s light touch on his arm, splashing his coffee. “Sorry!” He grabbed napkins and blotted where he had spilled, luckily only on the table and not on her very expensive dress.

She smiled politely. “It’s alright, Mr. Parker. Tony has that effect on people. Many people who see him are similarly star struck.”

“You have no idea,” he muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Currently looking for anyone willing to draw fanart of Peter in his little club outfit for, uh...personal reasons. :3
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Please leave a comment and a kudos, if you're so inclined!
> 
> If you liked this story, feel free to check out some of my other works or my [Tumblr](https://mystical-knight-dragon.tumblr.com/)!


	2. One Point Perspective

It must be a new record, Peter thought bitterly, for a new employee to be called into HR less than three hours after starting a new position.

A stern-looking woman with hair pulled up in a tight, white bun glared at him over her glasses. “Mr. Parker,” she started.

Peter burst into tears. “I’m being fired l, aren’t I?”

The terse line of her mouth pulled up at an edge. “You’d be surprised how often I get asked that.” She handed him a tissue. “Just because you’re called into HR doesn’t necessarily mean you’re being fired.”

She didn’t say no, Peter thought morosely as he wiped at his eyes.

Without even waiting for him to compose himself, she said, “Tell me, Mr. Parker, did you have any idea who Mr. Stark was before meeting him in the office today?”

Groaning, Peter buried his head in his hands. Yep, he was definitely getting fired. Who  _ didn’t  _ recognize  _ Tony Stark  _ on sight? Except for Peter Parker, apparently. “I know it sounds hard to believe, but I honestly didn’t know it was him at the club on Friday. He introduced himself as  _ Tony,  _ and how was I supposed to guess a billionaire CEO would be at Bottom Feeders?”

The woman cleared her throat, and Peter blushed. He’d always thought the club name was cute, kind of funny, but saying the name in front of this ancient woman seemed like a sin, like having your grandma catch you with your pants down. “Mr. Parker, I’m to assume that at no point during that evening you realized you were”—she cleared her throat again, trying to think of the right word—“ah,  _ with  _ Tony Stark.”

The best way to get through this would be to make sure he kept telling the truth. “No. Though, to be honest, I was drunk at the time. I didn’t realize how drunk I was when Tony—Mr. Stark—bought me another drink.”

The woman blanched, and she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Let me get this straight. You were drunk, and your employer bought you  _ another  _ drink?”

Peter sank further into his chair, chin pressed to his chest, eyes on the floor. “Yes.”

She shuffled some papers for a moment before addressing Peter. “There will be a committee hearing, of course, to determine what to do. For now, you don’t work in the same building as he does, so I see no reason to suspend you for the duration. It might take some time, but if you have any questions, or if there’s anything else you’d like to add to your statement, please call me at this number.” She pushed a card across the table with her information typed in neat, steady letters. “For the time being, Mr. Parker, I don’t expect you to be at your best. Take the rest of today off, get yourself pulled together, and report to work tomorrow. Since this is an HR matter, I will make sure you don’t lose pay for the day, nor will you need to use sick leave or personal hours for today.”

Picking up the card and sliding it in his wallet, he thanked the woman. After exiting the office, he made his way to the nearest restroom, and broke down again. “I’m so fucked,” he sobbed.

Tony watched Gladys emerge from her office, a scowl plastering her face when she noticed him. “You’re fucked, Mr. Stark.”

Straight to the point, as always. Happy patted his knee as he buried his face in his hands. “Just tell me he didn’t know who I was,” he begged.

A thin white eyebrow rose judgmentally. “Incredibly, no, Mr. Stark, he did not recognize you. He claims he was very drunk.”

Tony groaned and sank even further.  _ That  _ would not look good in front of the board. Not only was he in a position of power, but he had bought Peter  _ more  _ alcohol. This situation had “sexual harassment lawsuit” written all over it. “Will it add any points in my favor if I mention that he didn’t cum?”

A shocked silence. “Mr. Stark, never say those words, in any order, in front of me ever again. Do I make myself clear?”

Peter slammed the apartment door behind him, feeling only a little guilty about disturbing his neighbors. His eyes were itchy and red, yet he still felt the need to cry. He had texted MJ a cryptic message about leaving work early, but he was wholly unprepared for the small gathering of MJ, Aunt May, and Ned waiting for him in the living room. Aunt May was immediately on him, arms around his neck, and he began crying anew.

“What happened, Peter? Talk to me.”

“I’m getting fired,” he sobbed.

“That’s bullshit,” swore MJ. “Look, we’ll get a GoFundMe for a lawyer and generate some fucking attention and get this all handled.”

“Peter, I have a friend who’s a corporate lawyer who might know someone who can help,” Ned offered. “I can even call if you want.”

Peter shook his head vigorously. “I don’t think a lawyer can help. Everything that happened is my fault.” Giving Aunt May the side eye, he addressed MJ and Ned. “Remember that guy I met last Friday? It turns out he was Tony Stark.”

_ “Oh my god!” _

“That bastard,” MJ hissed. “He’s your  _ boss.” _

“Yeah, but he didn’t know that at the time. How is he supposed to remember hundreds of thousands of employees? But a case could be made that  _ I  _ knew who  _ he  _ was and was trying to coerce special privileges from him.”

“To be fair,” piped in MJ, “have you  _ seen  _ Tony Stark? If I had a dick, I’d let him give me a handy, too.”

_ “Oh my god!”  _ Ned covered his ears while MJ giggled and Peter glared.

“Did you meet with HR?” Aunt May steered the conversation back to the matter at hand.

Peter nodded and extracted himself from Aunt May in favor of sitting on the couch. “Yeah. She’s the one who told me to take today off, to decompress before returning to work tomorrow.”

Aunt May’s frown relaxed. “Tell me everything she said, Peter.” After recounting their conversation as best he could remember, Aunt May said, “Peter, it really doesn’t sound like you’re getting fired. In a situation like this, with a company so big, HR would really need to investigate the situation further, in order to protect the employees, the employer, and the company itself.”

Ned had been on his phone and nodded his head. “I agree with May. I’ve been looking, and you have a lot of laws protecting you, Peter.”

Still not feeling any better, Peter frowned. “I’m sorry, everyone, and I can’t thank you enough, but I think I want to be left alone for a little while.”

Aunt May patted his knee gently. “Of course, Peter. Always know that we’re here for you.”

Pepper Potts wondered if it were buried in her contract that she was allowed to punch her boss. Her hands stayed fisted at her sides as Tony and Happy brought her up to speed with the Parker situation. She had already read the email from Gladys in HR yet took a sick pleasure in watching Tony actually look guilty about something for once in his life. “Tony, what were you  _ thinking?  _ You could have ruined this boy’s entire  _ career!” _

“Well, I wouldn’t have done it if I had known he was one of my employees,” Tony mumbled. But he remembered those leather pants, the way they hugged Peter’s ass so perfectly, and wasn’t so sure. He wondered for a minute if the hickey was still there. Too bad Peter’s suit had so sufficiently hidden it from view.

“Tony, do not go anywhere  _ near  _ that boy until all of this is over. I mean it.”

“Of course I won’t. I’m not stupid.” He wondered if he could get his meetings moved to Tower II, just so he could have a chance to get a glimpse of Peter.

“No, Tony,” Pepper snapped sharply. “Whatever it is that you’re thinking, just no.”

That night, Peter wore Tony’s Metallica shirt to bed and drifted off, wrapped in the scent of sage and sandalwood.

Peter went to work the following day, stomach in knots, but no one mentioned anything about HR or Tony Stark. He settled into his new routine, glad to have something to occupy his mind. HR had been right; he was working in a smaller, separate building about a block away from the main SI building, so he had no reason to dread Tony Stark walking by. Yet there was nothing to keep him from remembering the feeling of his hands on his body, how warm they had been, how hard he had been rocking up against—

And Peter would be up, pacing the office, taking sips from his water and taking deep breaths, trying to remain in the right headspace. He’d throw himself back into his team project until something else would remind him of that night. For example, two desks down, looking at the mathematical models he was calculating, his coworker innocuously commented, “Beautiful.”

In his other ear, Peter heard Tony whisper, “Shit. You feel so good in my hand. Gonna make you cum, beautiful. That alright?”

Luckily, his supervisor let him know it was time for his lunch break, so Peter had an hour to calm down before returning to work. He walked to Bryant Park, grabbing a salad on the way, before settling down on a bench and indulging in a recent vice: Googling Tony Stark.

So he was supposed to be calming down, but he couldn’t resist. He had never been interested in pop culture, so he really didn’t know much about his new boss. Transparently, he tried to tell himself that he was simply learning about his new company, but as his searches grew more specific (“Tony Stark shirtless,” “Tony Stark sexy,” “Tony Stark at the beach”), he forgot to pretend.

“Fuck, I’d like to lay you out in a proper bed and take you all the way down my throat. Would you like that, beautiful? Want to fuck daddy’s throat?”

Peter shut his phone off, threw out his salad, and marched back to the office. “No more Googling at lunch,” he grumbled to himself.

Otherwise, Peter was incredibly happy with his new job. The coworkers that had followed him in the partial merger were a great team, and they integrated with SI procedures and systems seamlessly. In fact, if it weren’t for the Stark logo on  _ literally everything,  _ Peter could pretend he was still back at Barritech.

He was also given a small stipend to work on his research, as well as slotted time to work in a StarkLab, equipped with everything he could ever hope to need. Since SI was currently clean energy focused, Peter had been looking into their arc reactor technology, pieces of which had been on the drawing board for decades, never coming any closer to completion. More chemistry driven than physics, Peter focused on the molecular side of things: how the atoms would fit together when all was said and done and how that would affect their behavior.

It made the days whip by unexpectedly quickly. When he was in the lab, he even forgot to worry about the upcoming HR hearing. Gladys had emailed him and let him know that everything would be settled by the end of the work day on Friday. There was an attachment with a bunch of legal jargon, which he sent to Ned in hopes his lawyer friend could translate. The document essentially laid out his rights as an employee of Stark Industries and that they would provide a lawyer for Peter, free of charge, should he desire one.

Back at the apartment, MJ was an absolute doll. She kept him just busy enough to keep him from ruminating and worrying. She even cooked dinner every night that week—something absolutely unheard of from her. She promised that she and Ned would take him out that Friday night, no matter what happened.

“We can go anywhere except Bottom Feeders,” Peter grumbled. Though part of him remembered Tony’s promise that, if he wanted, they could meet there again… He shook his head. He was already in enough trouble as it was without purposely seeking Tony out, no matter how much it made his heart ache.

And at night, Peter held Tony’s shirt by his face, convinced he could still catch a whiff of sage and sandalwood.

Tony didn’t  _ mean  _ to read Peter’s article on possible arc reactor adjustments, yet here he was, entirely absorbed in the research Peter had already completed in less than a week. When Pepper caught him and nearly exploded, turning a shade of crimson never before catalogued in nature, Tony swore to her that JARVIS was programmed to alert him whenever someone was performing research on arc reactor technology. She relented because that program had prevented an unpredictably violent Ivan Vanco from injuring potentially hundreds of people in Monaco a handful of years prior.

When Pepper wouldn’t stop her lecture, Tony waved her off and gestured to the paper. “Look at this. He postulates that the arc reactor wouldn’t work given today’s current technology, that a new element would need to be ‘created.’ Oganesson was first synthesized in a lab in Russia in 2002, but it’s incredibly unstable. I mean, Uranium is the heaviest element that can exist in nature, and it only has 92 protons compared to Oganesson’s 118. If I could get a particle accelerator built in this lab—”

“Tony!” Pepper cut him off, and Tony sat up swiftly, having forgotten she was there. “Tony. You’re not building a particle accelerator.”

Tony growled, countenance darkening. “Pepper, you of all people know that if you tell me not to do something, that I’m going to do it.”

She held up her hand and closed her eyes. “You’re not building a particle accelerator as an excuse to add Peter onto your exclusive ‘team,’ where it will be just the two of you unsupervised in a room. I don’t know if you’re  _ aware  _ of this, Tony, but Peter can  _ sue  _ the entirety of Stark Industries for sexual harassment. You had your  _ fucking hand in his pants.”  _ She opened her eyes and approached him carefully, leveling her eyes with his. “Promise me, Tony, that you’re not going to build a particle accelerator as an excuse to get close to this boy.”

Tony chewed his lip, thinking. “What if”—Pepper threw up her hands in exasperation and turned so she was facing the wall—“I  _ built  _ the particle accelerator in a  _ public  _ lab…and I set up a program with JARVIS that I can’t access the lab if he’s in there.” He left out the part of Peter being able to access the lab if  _ he  _ was in there. A scene began playing in his mind of Tony, elbows deep in machinery, turning slowly to the doors as Peter walked in. Maybe Peter would lay him down on the lab table and have him right there, all the more tantalizing with the possibility of other employees walking in at any minute. Maybe—

Pepper turned slowly and dangerously to face Tony. “You do realize that if your company is sued, it’s people like  _ me  _ who would lose their jobs?”

That finally got through to Tony. He blinked steadily, taking in the frustration and exhaustion she exuded. “You’re right. Of course you’re right.” He closed out of the research paper (though he already had it bookmarked in his browser). “I got carried away.” He reached out and gently took her hands in his. “Pepper, you’re the only person in this world who can steady me when I get like this. I would never let anything happen to you—or anyone else in this company, for that matter. If Peter  _ does  _ start a lawsuit, I  _ promise _ no one else will get hurt.”

She sighed and extracted her hands from Tony’s grasp. “You can’t promise that, Tony. No one can promise that. Just…no particle accelerators.”

Drawing an X over his heart, he smiled. “No particle accelerators. Promise.”

He watched her walk from the room before pulling Peter’s research article back up, reading it again, brain racing at a hundred miles an hour. “JARVIS, I’m going to need some parts ordered to my lab.” As he continued his calculations in his head, he amended, “Scratch that, I’m going to need a lot more space. JARVIS, email CERN and ask if I can use their particle accelerator. Email Fermilab, too. Illinois is a lot closer than Switzerland.”

After reading Peter’s research one more time, he pulled up his father’s original blueprints for an arc reactor. Technology had come a long way in the last 50 years, and many great minds had weighed in on Howard Stark’s brainchild in those years, but sometimes it was best to go back to basics.

It was Thursday night, and he forgot to sleep, drafting blueprint after blueprint of possible configurations for an arc reactor, ready for  _ if  _ he discovered the new element Howard Stark alluded to in his research…

“Sir?” JARVIS prompted.

Tony rubbed his eyes. He must have fallen asleep. “What is it, J?”

“Fermilab has given their consent for you to use their facility. CERN has more reservations and has provided a list of restrictions.”

A yawn. “That’s great, J.” Surely his AI didn’t wake him up just for this…

“I would also like to add that if you intend on making it to the HR meeting on time, you have enough time for a shower if you leave right now.”

Tony groaned. “Maybe start with that one next time?” Stretching, he was halfway to the door when Pepper entered, frowning.

“Don’t tell me you slept here.”

“Alright, I won’t tell you.”

Peter fidgeted anxiously as he waited to be summoned into the conference room, pressing imaginary wrinkles out of his suit pants just to have something to do with his hands. A secretary had offered him coffee when he had first arrived, but he had refused, worried he would need to pee in the middle of the meeting, or spill it on himself, but now he wished he had accepted it, just to take his mind off the hundreds of butterflies floating in his stomach.

The door cracked open, and he was greeted by Gladys’s stern gaze over her glasses. Taking deep breaths, Peter followed her into the room. Most of the people in the room he didn’t recognize, except Ms. Potts, and when his eyes caughts Tony’s, his heart beat erratically, immediately feeling memories of his hands on his body. Tony looked absolutely gorgeous in his navy suit and gold tie. He sat casually back in his chair, his ankle perched on his knee, and Peter had to resist staring at his crotch, remembering too vividly how incredible that cock had felt pressed into his ass.

Gladys performed the introductions. Two others were from human resources, at the far end of the table. On Peter’s side, they had provided him a lawyer (“Just in case,” Gladys had insisted), and a lawyer for SI sat beside Tony and Pepper.

When Gladys seated herself at the head of the table, she began without preamble. “We’re here to determine what, if any, action will be taken against Anthony Edward Stark and/or Peter Benjamin Parker in light of the sexual events that took place this past Friday, April 10th. Due to Mr. Parker being employed by Stark Industries at the time of the event, Mr. Parker is within full rights to press legal charges—”

_ “What?”  _ Peter squeaked, paling. “I don’t want to press charges!”

Gladys once more turned her severe gaze in his direction. “Mr. Parker, perhaps you’d like to discuss this with legal counsel first.”

Peter flushed, angry, embarrassed. “There’s nothing to discuss! At the time, I didn’t even know it was—Mr. Stark.” Peter stumbled over the name, and his blush darkened. “Look, I’ve been thinking about this. Technically, my first day at Stark Industries wasn't until Monday. Couldn’t we just say—?”

But Gladys was shaking her head firmly. “I’m not changing your contract, and you’d be smart not to suggest such a thing in front of these lawyers.”

Tony cleared his throat, and Peter was glad to have an excuse to let his eyes wander. Was he wearing his sage and sandalwood cologne? Or did he wear a different scent to work?

“We’re all eager to get this wrapped up in a nice, tidy package. Just tell me what I need to do. I’m prepared to give up all hiring and firing power; that way no one could ever accuse Peter of using me to get a promotion. You know what? I’ll do just that. Effective immediately, I revoke any and all ability to hire, fire, or promote any SI employees. Except Pepper. I retain rights to promote Pepper.”

“Tony,” she ground warningly through gritted teeth.

“And Happy. I can promote Happy. But that’s it. No one else.” He eyed Gladys. “What else do you want? I can pay for Peter’s legal fees from my personal funds instead of business funds, if that’s—”

Gladys interrupted swiftly. “Mr. Stark, I highly suggest you stop talking before you make an even bigger mess than the one you’ve already created. Given the circumstances, and Mr. Parker’s decision not to go forth with a lawsuit, we can only advise you, Mr. Stark, to take care of your behavior in the future, though I’m sure I’m asking the impossible here. We do have some additional provisos, for the both of you. Though you work in separate buildings, if you ever find yourselves in the same room, make sure there are plenty of chances for eyes to be on you. Have a chaperone, if you will. Like at a middle school dance. Second, hold yourselves accountable for any future actions. Transparency is better than hiding behind the curtains.” She paused, making eye contact with the other members of HR before adding, “If there’s nothing else anyone wishes to add, I daresay we’re done here.”

As the others stood up to leave, Peter gaped. “You mean I’m not fired?”

Gladys allowed herself a small smile. “Mr. Parker, you are a delight. In this particular instance, you did nothing wrong, and thus, there would be absolutely no reason to fire you.” Her stern posture was back instantly. “Though now you know what Mr. Stark looks like, so I daresay that won’t help you in the future, should you find yourself in a similar situation…though, pray you don’t. Now, if you’ll excuse me, and I hope you don’t think this rude of me, but I hope to see neither of you in here again.”

Tony watched Peter exit the conference room, his hands tingling with the desire to reach out to him, wrap him in his arms. Peter had looked beautifully out of place in that room, a diamond mixed in with coal dust, something so pure and chaste forced to mingle with Tony’s purely dark intentions. He felt the way Peter looked at him, eyes bright with desire, clearly still aching for him as Tony did for Peter.

Pepper was gathering her things and speaking to Tony, but he wasn’t listening, unabashedly scheming ways to get closer to Peter without alerting HR.

“Tony? Did you hear me?” He jerked at the sound of his name, finally turning his full attention to Pepper. “I said that could have gone a lot worse and that you’re extraordinarily lucky Peter didn’t file a lawsuit. We should go out tonight, you, me, and Happy. Colonel Rhodes, too, if he’s available. This was a stressful situation, and I don’t want you alone tonight, stewing, or back in your workshop…doing whatever it is you do there.”

Tony nodded, letting his mind drift back to memories of last Friday night, the feel of Peter’s cock against his palm. “Sure, Pep. Make the plans, and I’ll be there.”


	3. Still Take You Home

Peter called MJ the minute he walked out of the meeting room. His heart was pounding, adrenaline flushing through his system. He had woken up that morning thinking he would lose his job at SI and had already started morosely updating his resume, hesitating when he reached the section about why he left his most recent position. He didn’t think “loved the feel of my boss’s hand on my cock” would guarantee future employment.

“We’re going to Fuse tonight,” MJ announced happily after Peter updated her on the outcome of the HR meeting. “I’m just glad we’ll be happy drinking instead of sad drinking. Want to go shopping beforehand? Get something cute?”

Peter remembered the damage his newly purchased leather pants had recently caused and laughed. “No, I think I’m better off wearing something I already have. The more boring, the better.”

Ned met them at the nightclub wearing the same style fedora he had worn since highschool. Peter smiled, remembering how they had crashed Liz’s party sophomore year…then frowned when he remembered how her father had been arrested later that year for murder and attempted robbery.

MJ wore a short black dress and had insisted on pre-drinking, already sloshed on miniatures of Malibu—which Peter had steadfastly refused to drink ever again — and was already accepting a dance from a stranger, having barely walked in the door. Watching bemusedly as she staggered off, waving energetically back at Peter and Ned, the boys made their way to the bar to order beers and shots before finding an empty table off to the side.

“So you’re alright, Peter?” Ned asked, friendly hand on his shoulder.

Peter nodded and took a sip of his beer. As much as he hated to admit it, MJ was right about the drink markup. “I’m fine. Thanks, Ned.” He sighed and finally let himself relax. “I’m just glad this week is finally over. I’m looking forward to a very calm weekend. No drama. Come over tomorrow, and we can play video games and eat snacks all day.”

Ned had stiffened in his chair. “Sorry, Peter. I think your weekend plans may have just changed.” Awkwardly, and without explanation, he took his beer and beat a hasty retreat away from their table.

Tony grumbled unhappily as Pepper herded him behind a red cordon and into a private table but perked up when he looked over the whiskey options, eagerly ordering a bottle of Laphroaig.

“Don’t even think about drinking that whole bottle, Tony,” Pepper scolded, ordering a Cosmo for herself. Happy stood at the cordon, looking menacingly at anyone who moved too close.

“I wasn’t,” Tony lied.

Patting his arm tenderly, Pepper comforted, “Tony, you know everything worked out for the best today. You’re no longer that reckless youth of your past who could get away with doing anything or anyone. Your actions have consequences, for better or worse. Besides, you knew the boy for  _ one night.  _ You can’t tell me—”

Tony’s eyes snagged on a familiar face near the bar. “Pepper, you picked this place at random, right? There’s no way anyone could accuse Peter or me of planning this, right?”

“What are you—?” Her eyes landed on Peter’s face, and she grabbed at Tony’s sleeve as he stood. “Tony,  _ no!” _

Over his shoulder, he mumbled, “HR said if we met up, it should be somewhere public. Besides, Pep, I promise to keep my hands to myself.” A definite lie.

As he approached Peter’s table, he saw his friend scramble away and appreciated the privacy they would have. “Hey,” he greeted, hoping for casual but coming out breathless. Even in jeans and tank top, Peter was absolutely stunning.

Peter turned slowly toward Tony, blinking like he believed he was dreaming, a shy smile creasing his lips. “Hey,” he answered. “Aren’t we supposed to have a chaperone?”

Jerking his thumb behind him, he indicated Pepper. “We’ll be okay if Pepper’s here. It’s kind of in her job description:  _ attempt  _ to keep me out of trouble.” His hands tensed, eager to run along Peter’s toned arms or down his thigh. This was a stupid idea. He never should have—

“Peter, I’m really sorry about —”

“Please don’t. I don’t regret last Friday night, and if things were…different…” He blushed and smiled shyly up at Tony through dark eyelashes. “I still have your shirt,” he confessed.

Tony felt his heart stutter. This boy would be his undoing. He leaned closer, let his teeth drag on the shell of Peter’s ear. “Yeah, baby boy? You wear it? Touch yourself while thinking of me?”

Shivering, Peter leaned into Tony’s chest. “I stopped wearing it because I didn’t want it to lose your scent if I had to wash it.”

“You didn’t answer my second question.”

And suddenly, Peter was pressed into him, lips on his, hands sliding under his shirt, tongue slipping into his mouth. Tony’s hands clutched Peter’s ass, pulling him closer, grinding into him as his dick filled out. “I can get you another shirt, baby boy, if that’s what you want. Would you like that? Hold it to your face as you fist your cock, thinking of me…” He thought about slipping his hand into Peter’s pants, but Fuse generally frowned on that sort of thing. Maybe he’d invite Peter back to his house—

A strong hand on his shoulder had him regretfully pulling back from Peter, and Happy’s face frowned down at him.

“Ah, shit,” mumbled Tony, stepping back from Peter, who looked deliciously out of breath.

“Guess we really do need a chaperone,” Peter joked half-heartedly, blushing as he refused to meet Happy’s gaze.

Tony glanced back at the VIP section and noted Pepper’s livid face, and he was immensely glad  _ she  _ hadn’t been the one to break them up. She would have slapped him.

As Happy steered him towards the door, Tony called recklessly over his shoulder, “I read your research on the arc reactor! I think you might be onto something, with discovering a new, heavier atom—”

“Drop it, Tony,” Happy growled.

Peter touched his lips as he watched Happy push Tony out of the club, Pepper trotting angrily behind him. MJ sidled up beside him, grinning beatifically, while Ned tried hiding a smirk behind a look of reproach. Peter repressed a giggle as he imagined them as his little shoulder angel and devil, Ned always the voice of reason and MJ the voice of chaos and desire.

“Really can’t blame you, Pete,” MJ snickered, nudging him with her shoulder. “He is a serious silver fox. Or…black fox. Is there a word for a hot, older guy with black hair?”

The term “daddy” popped into Peter's mind, and he blushed deeply.

“What was that about the arc reactor?” Ned asked curiously.

Peter downed his beer that had been left forgotten at the table. His body was still flushed from Tony’s words in his ear and the feel of him pressed against him, growing hard against his hip. When his mind settled enough that he could process Ned’s words, he answered, “Just some research I’ve been doing. Honestly, I haven’t even had a lot of time to work on it since starting at SI. I don’t know why Tony was looking at it, or why he’d mention it. Just minor speculation in atomic theory. Plus, you’d need a particle accelerator. Like, a really big one.”

And Ned had flawlessly distracted Peter, engaging him further in atomic discussion, while MJ rolled her eyes and trotted back out to the dance floor.

It was nearly three o’clock in the morning when the trio stumbled into Peter and MJ’s apartment, offering Ned full use of the couch. Back in his own house, having finally convinced Pepper to give up her lecture and for her and Happy to  _ go home,  _ Tony was already elbows deep in another project, content to drown himself in something mundane until he was forced to return to work on Monday. He had been in this state before, needing to keep his hands and brain busy, rejecting sleep and food and hygiene until he finally passed out from exhaustion, inevitably awoken by anxiety dreams and nightmares.

Before he knew it, his hands had built a drone, complete with its own remote. He chuckled. It was nothing special, but Tony still brought it outside to give it a test run. The sun was already low on the horizon, and Tony was less surprised than he should have been to check his phone and find out it was 6:30 pm on Saturday. After a few minutes, he packed up the drone and headed inside. His brain was buzzing a mile a minute as he threw together a sandwich before heading upstairs and straight into the shower. When he finished his shower, he towel dried, spritzed some cologne, and put on a Black Sabbath shirt.

And nothing else.

Thinking about Peter was easy, and he was quickly hard, having been formulating this plan probably before he himself was even fully aware of it. His hand worked at himself, and he considered getting lube to open himself up. He was all for equal opportunity when it came to sex, but eventually decided against it. Lube was messy, and there was only one fluid he was planning on getting on this shirt.

He didn’t mind taking this slowly, though, enjoying every flick of his wrist as he worked his shaft. He’d only seen Peter a few times, barely had a conversation with him, and he was already in too deep. That had always been a flaw of his: falling too hard, too fast, usually breaking his own heart before the other person was even aware of his intentions. It was a cycle, really, and even when the other person  _ was  _ interested, they quickly grew tired of his self-deprecation, endless working hours, and the inability to just turn  _ off  _ and appreciate the moment. He tended to overcompensate with lavish gift giving and absolute body worship, until that became too tiring of a pretense for either of them to keep up with.

“Peter could be different,” his heart begged.  _ “You  _ could be different.” And wasn’t that what always started the trouble? He wasn’t meant for relationships, much better with one-night stands. Fuck, he barely had  _ friends,  _ and two of those were his employees, literally  _ paid  _ to stay by his side.

Growling, he realized he had gotten himself depressed enough that he was soft. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. After all, he had been explicitly  _ ordered  _ to stay away from Peter. What good would it do to keep trying to initiate contact with him?

But then he remembered Peter’s blushing face, confessing he still had Tony’s shirt, and he felt himself perk back up. Besides, Peter wasn’t just a pretty face; he was damn brilliant and might actually be able to keep up with Tony. In addition to reading his scattered notes on the arc reactor, Tony had also pulled up Peter’s articles he had published while at Barritech, ranging on a variety of topics such as supramolecular chemistry to an almost poetic treatise on symmetry in inorganic molecules. And if Peter’s absolutely electrifying reaction to his dirty talk hadn’t pushed him over the edge already, then it would be the sheer amount of chemistry and atomic knowledge stuffed in the gorgeous head.

And the way he felt under his hands and pressed against him hadn’t felt too bad, either.

His mind drifted back to that night at Bottom Feeders, how pliant and eager Peter had been for him, how fabulous his cock had felt over those incredible leather pants. His mouth watered at the idea of one day sliding that cock inside, stroking it with his tongue and letting the head slam into the back of his throat. He could imagine Peter’s fingers tangling in his hair, slamming his hips forward hard enough Tony’s mouth would bruise, gagging on that perfect cock. Afterward, he’d lay Peter down and take his mouth to his asshole, tongue spearing inside, getting Peter wet and working him open. Maybe slip a finger inside, probing him until he came hot and hard into the blankets.

Tony’s fist was working himself faster. Having intended to take it slow, he couldn’t hold himself back as he imagined taking Peter in every possible position and Peter taking him as well. He imagined being bent over a project in his lab, Peter coming up behind him, and thrusting deep inside. He considered again taking out his lube and maybe a toy, pretend it was Peter preparing him, but once again decided against it. His dick had formed a plan and didn’t want anything to ruin it.

Once more he thought about how Peter’s body had responded so effortlessly to his dirty talk, panting so sweetly in his ear, grinding his ass backwards into Tony’s cock. How flushed he had been both times Happy pulled them apart, bottom lip reddened from where he’d been worrying it. How wondrous he would look spread out on Tony’s bed, cheeks tinged pink, porcelain skin bruised from Tony’s kisses, cock red and leaking, bouncing enthusiastically against that flat stomach… 

Memories of Peter’s breathy gasp of his name reached his ears, and he came, trying his best to angle the shots towards his shirt but too blissed out to do much more than grunt and toss his head back. When he came to minutes later, he smiled down at the mess he’d made of the shirt. Carefully, he pulled it off before folding it into a tidy bundle. Finding a pen and paper, he penned a message:

_ For when your other shirt loses its scent. _

_ T.S. _

He found a small box in his workshop and carefully tucked the shirt and message inside. On a wildly inappropriate brainwave, he withdrew the note and scrawled his personal phone number at the bottom before replacing it and taping up the box. Now when this whole thing exploded in his face, Peter would have his private cell number to release to the press. Shaking his head, he wrote Peter Parker on top of the box in Sharpie before heading outside with the drone.

Looking up Peter’s home address was a breeze, but programming the drone so it would get through security and land exactly in front of his door on the fifth floor was trickier. It was nearly midnight before Tony released the drone and package into the skies, so exhausted that he had a moment of panic when he thought he forgot to program the drone to return.

“Fuck it, I’m going to bed,” he yawned.

Ned was leaving Peter’s apartment at nearly three in the morning. The two of them had been in the middle of programming one of the robots Ned had snuck home from work so it would perform silly office pranks, giggling like the overgrown children they were, when MJ came to kick him out of the apartment.

“You’ve been here for twenty-four hours, Ned.  _ Go home.” _

Ned glanced at his watch and blanched. “Shit, I promised my mom I’d stop by her house tomorrow morning.” He hastily ran his hands over his pockets, checking that he had everything, before tucking the robot under his arm. On his way out the door, he stumbled over a small cardboard box. “Peter, it has your name on it…”

Curiously, Peter took the box from Ned, turning it suspiciously over in his hands. There were no shipping labels or any other identifier on the box, other than his name scrawled across the top in Sharpie. Part of his brain warned against opening strange boxes from unknown senders, but curiosity won out. He took the box back to his room and closed the door behind him. He ran a pair of scissors against the tape and pulled a note from the box. His heart slammed against his rib cage again and again as he read and reread the short note. With shaking hands, he lifted the shirt delicately from the box, jaw dropping at the obscene white stains against the front. Tentatively, like he risked breaking this dream, he pulled the shirt to his nose and inhaled deeply. Sage and sandalwood greeted him warmly, wrapping him in their tight embrace.

The number scrawled at the bottom of the note caught his attention, and Peter entered it into his phone, accidentally pressing dial after he had saved it. Flushing bright red, he made to hang up, but a sleepy voice was on the other end leaving Peter with no choice but to answer.

“M — Mr. Stark…” Peter stumbled breathlessly, wondering why he didn't call him “Tony.” This was a stupid idea, calling him. What should he even say? “Th — thank you for the shirt…”

A deep rumble sounded from the other end, and Peter thought he heard rustling fabric. Was Tony in bed? Peter shivered and had to sit down, feeling light-headed. “Peter.” Tony's voice was raspy, deep, and Peter found he liked the sound of it against his ear. “Did you put it on?”

Peter bit his bottom lip nervously. “No, sir, not yet…”

Another rumble and another whisper of fabric. “I think I like the sound of you calling me ‘sir.’ Did you call daddy just to say thank you, or are you going to try on your gift?”

A whimper escaped Peter’s lips, and he set his phone to speaker while he wrestled with his clothes, lest he accidentally miss one word Tony said. He pulled the Black Sabbath shirt over his head, running his palm against the stain on the front. Surprisingly, though he thought he’d be grossed out by it, he found himself unbelievably turned on. His cock fought against the grip of his jeans, so he took those off as well.

A hot huff of laughter sounded from the other end of the phone. “Getting comfortable, baby boy?”

Peter snuggled under his covers and took the phone off speaker, cradling it against his ear. “What should I send back as a thank you?”

“I want to hear you moan my name again.”

Peter smirked against the phone and settled his hand on his cock. “I think I can manage that.” With his left hand, he pulled the shirt up to his nose and inhaled.

“You have a scent kink or something, baby boy?”

Peter smiled shyly. “I don’t think so… You just smell  _ really  _ good.” There was lube in his drawer, and he squeezed a small amount in his palm, slicking up his cock. Holding his hand in place, he thrust his hips up into his palm, gasping at the sensation.

“You don't waste time, do you?” A snicker, and Peter thought he heard the sharp snap of a bottle cap on the other end of the phone. “Let me catch up, baby boy.”

A wet, slick sound filled Peter’s ears, and he moaned, louder. “Fuck that fat cock, daddy,” he whimpered.

“Jesus, Pete.” Tony sounded out of breath, and Peter heard his hand speed up. “You gonna fuck that hole of yours? Slide a finger in there?”

Peter considered it. He kept a prostate massage wand and some smaller dildos in his drawer, but when he thought about having to put Tony back on speaker to manage it, he frowned. “It’s kind of hard to do while holding my phone.”

“Then do you mind if I finger myself? Pretend it’s you preparing me and filling me up?”

Peter’s mind whited out as it struggled to process what Tony had said. His past boyfriends had been adamant about being a top, and Peter had just accepted it for what it was. For  _ Tony Stark  _ to imply he’d let Peter fuck him…

He hadn’t answered, so Tony asked again.  _ “Yes!”  _ Peter cried. “Tell me—talk to me about what you’re doing.” His hand moved faster on his cock, eager to imagine Tony preparing himself for the sole purpose of feeling Peter inside him.

“I’ve got my index finger inside me. Can you hear it?”

The sound grew louder as Tony asked, and Peter’s eardrum was filled with an obscene squelching. His body flushed, lightning racing down his spine.

“It’s not enough. I’m putting in another…”

A thick veil covered Peter’s other senses, his brain honing in solely on the sounds coming through his phone. He could almost picture the second finger sliding in beside the first. His fist matched the pace Tony’s fingers set, audible through the speaker.

“Fuck, Peter, I wish this were you fingering me, pressing inside me. You’d fill me up so good, baby boy. I bet even as you fingered me, you wouldn’t be able to keep that eager mouth off my cock. You’d swallow me down, aching to take everything into your mouth. You’d be so good for me. Would you have your other hand over your cock, jerking yourself, so hard just from the taste of me on your tongue?”

Peter’s hand was flying over his cock, senses filled with Tony’s words and the sounds of his fingers working inside himself. “Tony, I can’t — ”

“I want to hear you cum.”

His hips bucked furiously, and Peter came with a low whine chased by an elongated, “Toooonyyy…”

“Fuck,” Tony hissed. “Fuck, fuck,  _ fuckfuckfuck…” _

Peter’s chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath, absentmindedly cleaning up with tissues. He could still hear Tony on the other end, slick with lube, and Peter shivered. “You close, daddy?” he hummed.

“Peter,” Tony groaned. “God, I wish this were you fucking me instead of my hand.”

Peter clutched the shirt to his face and inhaled. The scent brought back memories of Tony’s hands on him, firm, and his cock gave a valiant effort to rise again.

“I can still feel your cock in my hand, how hot and firm it was. Did you know it was leaking? Fuck, how many times have I gotten myself off thinking about how wet I’d made you? Ah, Peter, I wanna slide my fingers into you, feel your pretty little hole clutch around me — _ ah, shit!” _

“Tony?”

Heavy breathing followed by a deep, satisfied groan signaled Tony’s release. Peter smiled into the fabric still pulled over his nose. “Thank you for the shirt, Tony.”

A low chuckle. “You are so welcome, beautiful.”


	4. One for the Road

Thursday morning found Peter still reeling as he stood lock kneed at the departure gate in LaGuardia. His four traveling companions chatted idly around him, waiting for their group number to be called. They were part of a handpicked team selected to work on a covert arc reactor project at Fermilab in Batavia, Illinois. Peter vaguely remembered Tony shouting something about reading his arc reactor research as his bodyguard had hauled him away at Fuse, but any speculation he and Ned had had about Tony’s comment had been driven away by Tony’s…present.

Peter blushed even now just thinking about that phone call. When he’d gotten the memo that he’d be on the arc reactor project, he’d been secretly hoping to meet Tony at the airport, but the CEO’s conspicuous absence from their group rattled Peter unpleasantly. Had he pushed the boundaries too far? He groaned at the words Tony had pulled from him. Maybe Tony had changed his mind about Peter or had grown tired of him. Or maybe someone had finally convinced him that phone sex with an employee was exactly what had gotten them in trouble with HR in the first place.

His group moved forward to the gate, and Peter followed them instinctively, barely registering holding out his boarding pass. He was delighted to see he had the window seat as he stashed his laptop in the overhead bin. The flight from LaGuardia to Chicago O’Hare was barely two and half hours, and he planned to catch a few winks while he could. He had a feeling once he was able to stand in the presence of a particle accelerator, he’d be too excited to sleep.

Plopping down beside him sat one of the few other employees in his department that was in his age bracket. Shuri was bubbly and brilliant, and Peter was looking forward to getting to know her better. In her six years at SI, she had filed scores of patents, heralded dozens of inventions, and had even discovered an alloy that was stronger and lighter than steel, which she dubbed Vibranium.

“I read your notes on the arc reactor. Clever. I can see why Mr. Stark put together this team to research it further. What I can’t understand is how you plan to keep such a heavy element stable for a long enough period of time for the arc reactor to be a viable piece of technology. Enough clean energy to power all of New York City is all well and good unless that burst of power only lasts a couple of seconds.”

So much for a nap. Peter would have been annoyed about missing out on some much needed rest if such excitement hadn’t been behind Shuri's words and visage. It would be refreshing to spend a few days working with people who could not only keep up with him but could also challenge his ideas.

“I figured the first step would be to see if this new element could even be synthesized. It would be a moot point to create a way to stabilize it if it doesn’t even exist in the first place.”

Shuri grinned at him slyly and opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by an older man in a gray suit and purple shirt with an easy smile. He slipped into the third seat and held out his hand to Shuri and Peter. “Bruce Banner,” he introduced himself. Peter’s jaw dropped, and Shuri’s eyes twinkled with delight. Suddenly, Peter was seized by doubt. For this project to have attracted such extraordinary minds as Dr. Banner’s… It was one thing to dabble in thought experiments in an isolated lab; it was another to have world renowned scientists such as Dr. Banner flown out to Fermilab to test…what? An element that probably wouldn’t exist for more than a few microseconds, if at all? His heart stuttered, and he had to remember to breathe.

Shuri was much more at ease, excitedly asking Dr. Banner about his latest research on gamma rays, specifically the launch of the Fermi Gamma-ray Space Telescope and its findings thus far. Dr. Banner answered her questions politely before deflecting and asking about her work with vibranium and its technical applications. As their flight continued, Peter found himself more at ease, asking questions of the others and thankful that neither brought up Peter’s work. All too soon, the plane was touching down in Chicago O’Hare.

After collecting their luggage, they were greeted by Happy, who thankfully ignored Peter, though he was sure there was  _ much  _ the bodyguard wanted to say to him. Happy drove the team of five to their hotel in Batavia, roughly thirty minutes west of the airport. As they drove, they introduced themselves. In addition to himself, Shuri, and Dr. Banner, they were joined by quantum physicist Hope Pym and neurosurgeon Stephen Strange who had branched into metaphysics following a horrific car accident that impaired his hands. And of course, joining them shortly, would be—

Peter’s breath caught in his throat when Tony stole into the hotel lobby. The sharp lines of his pristine, tailored suit drew all eyes to him, but his DITA sunglasses blocked exactly where Tony’s line of sight lay. Self-consciously, Peter felt out of place in his traveling clothes: ragged blue jeans and a dorky shirt with a physics joke. His eyes roamed their group, and he realized he was the only one dressed so casually. Even Happy wore a suit. Fuck.

Tony clasped his hands together and, barreling over Dr. Strange’s questions, turned to the group and said, “I know you just landed, but I know I’d like to get started. The conference room is”—he pointed down the hall—“right over there. The concierge will bring your luggage up to your rooms. Now if you’ll all—” Tony strode off before finishing his sentence.

Shrugging, Dr. Banner followed Tony, Shuri hot on his heels. Dr. Hope Pym sighed and mumbled something about having wanted to freshen up before getting started. Dr. Strange looked ready to strangle someone, and Peter gave him a wide berth as they brought up the rear.

The conference room was fully stocked with coffee and snacks. Plates and cups were loaded up before the genius minds took their seats around the table. Eyes navigated naturally toward Tony at the head of the table, but as he was staring intently at Peter, attention slowly shifted his way. Halfway through a powdered donut, Peter froze, infinitely aware of the sticky mess coating his fingers and mouth. He slowly lowered the donut to his plate and used a napkin to swipe away most of the powdered sugar, refusing to look down to see how much had landed on his shirt.

What the fuck did the others expect of him?

Clearing his throat, he took a tentative sip of the coffee. Expecting the typically horrible fare generally served at hotels, he was surprised by the rich, bold flavor. Most assuredly better quality beans than he even bought for himself at home. One more glance around the table showed that, yup, everyone was still staring at him. What the fuck was he supposed to  _ say? _

He waved awkwardly. “Hello.”

Dr. Hope Pym, thankfully, saved him from any further trauma. “Mr. Stark, I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say how excited we are to get the chance to work on this project with you. If we  _ are  _ able to synthesize element 119—”

“Element 120,” Peter interrupted. He flushed brightly. How could he have interrupted  _ Dr. Hope Pym _ of all people? He hastily began apologizing, but she was smiling.

“Why skip 119?” Dr. Strange asked.

Peter slid further into his chair. How was he supposed to explain his ideas to the most brilliant minds in the world? He had been simply dabbling in theoretical atomic theory— _ and  _ he had been almost fired recently. He had  _ zero qualifications _ —

But his mouth was working faster than his social anxiety. “119 is a prime number and may not stay as stable as a nice, composite number like 120. I theorize we can synthesize Unbinilium if we combine Radium and Germanium. But there still is, of course, the vast possibility that it will collapse on itself before anything sticks.”

Shuri was nodding her head but Dr. Hope Pym was frowning again. “Then why use elements 88 and 32 to make 120? Why not Thorium and Zinc?”

“Because that combination has already been tried by Dr. Gottlieb and Dr. Caspari at CERN about two years ago.”

Questions continued to fly around the table, and Peter slowly felt more comfortable with his role. They slowly formed a plan for the collider use, which they’d be able to have access to the following day, and the more they bounced ideas off one another, the more excited they became.

Throughout the discussion, Tony remained conspicuously silent, his expression hidden behind his sunglasses and coffee cup. Whenever he did pitch in the occasional idea, Peter felt a shiver of delight roll down his back, recalling easily other words Tony had whispered in his ear. He wanted nothing more than for Tony to tell everyone else to get out before throwing Peter on the table and sliding into him. Or maybe Tony would simply open his legs and pat his lap, and Peter could fall before him, engulfing his dick with his mouth, sucking him as far down as possible. Those sunglasses continued to obscure the direction of Tony’s gaze, and Peter knew he’d throw them off given half the chance in order to meet Tony’s deep brown eyes. He’d have Tony swallowed down to the root, focusing on forcing that thick meat into the back of his throat without choking, and he’d peer up at Tony, iridescent tears playing against his dark lashes, and the  _ look  _ Tony would return… 

The others were standing up and stretching, and Peter had to shake himself embarrassingly loose from his daydream. Tony was still sitting at the head of the table, but now he was undoubtedly turned in Peter’s direction. Peter’s breath caught in his throat, and he felt pulled into Tony’s orbit, spinning in tighter and tighter circles, an asteroid willing to throw itself into the sun. It wasn’t until Shuri threw a casual arm around his shoulders that he was able to break free.

Shuri addressed the group. “I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m starving. How about ordering a pizza?”

Bruce grinned. “I could eat.”

“Dinner sounds lovely,” said Hope, “but I’d really like to see my room first. It’s been a very long day, and I’d like a chance to freshen up.”

The group had moved into the lobby, and Happy addressed them, handing out key cards as he spoke. “Your luggage has already been brought to your rooms. Dr. Pym and Ms. Shuri, you’re together in room 308. Dr. Banner and Mr. Parker, you’re in room 316. Mr. Stark and Dr. Strange, you’re in room 401.”

Peter’s heart dropped. Part of him had been hoping he’d get roomed with Tony. Or at least that Tony would have his own separate room. Peter imagined sneaking out of his room late at night, slipping through Tony’s door, and getting bent over the bed. Or maybe Tony would want to take it nice and slow—

Happy’s glare had the hair on the back of his neck tingling with sensed danger before he even saw the lasers boring into his skull. But there was no way Happy could have known what thoughts were going through Peter’s head…right?

Shuri ordered the pizza and suggested they have dinner at the pool. Warmth flushed through Peter as he imagined Tony joining them wearing swim trunks. He’d felt that firm torso when he’d pressed against him at Bottom Feeders and so could only imagine how fantastic he’d look in a bathing suit. Would he get in the pool? When he emerged from the pool, would the water stick his trunks to his body, the outline of his cock—

“Are you alright?”

Peter startled back to awareness. He had been following Bruce to their shared room, but in his daydream, he had walked nearly four doors past their room. Shaking his head to clear it, he headed back toward Bruce. “Yeah, sorry. I’m just distracted thinking about—”

“The particle accelerator?”

Peter laughed. “Actually, I was thinking about pizza.”

Once in the room, Peter took the opportunity to change into his bathing suit, thankful he had packed it on a whim. By the time Bruce and Peter met with Shuri at the pool, the pizza had already been delivered. Tony, Happy, Hope, and Stephen were ordering room service, and Peter’s heart sank at the missed opportunity of being able to spend time with Tony. His daydream shrank and shriveled like a flower left without water. Dejectedly, he ate his pizza in semi silence, providing minimal conversation to Shuri and Bruce.

He must have dozed, exhausted from the plane ride and the meeting, for he woke up on a chaise lounge to the sound of water splashing. Cracking an eye open, he saw Shuri treading water in the middle of the pool. Bruce was nowhere to be seen. Stretching and yawning, Peter stood and made his way to the side of the pool.

“Have a nice nap?” Shuri teased. She gestured to her face and said, “You’ve got, ah…sleep marks.”

Peter rubbed at his cheeks as if that would make the marks disappear before grinning sheepishly and joining her in the pool. "How long was I out?"

"Not long. Maybe an hour. Bruce already headed back to your room." She looked at him for a very long time, and Peter could see her weighing her next words very carefully. "Tony Stark hasn't been through here."

Peter froze. How much did Shuri know about their—relationship? Could he even call it that? Was she planning to go to Happy or HR with—?

With what? Peter forced himself to take deep breaths and calm down. He and Tony hadn't done anything improper on this trip. In fact, Tony hadn't even spoken to him and barely even  _ looked  _ at him. Unless Shuri could read minds, Peter had nothing to worry about.

When Peter remained silent, Shuri smiled gently. "It's alright. I won't tell anyone if you don't want them to know. It's just that you wear your emotions so plainly on your face, it was easy to see how you feel about him. But I won't bring it up again if it makes you uncomfortable." She swam to the edge of the pool and pulled herself out. "I'm going to head to my room. I'll see you tomorrow morning, Peter."

Peter watched her leave before exhaling heavily, tension releasing from his shoulders. He really had to be more careful. Even if he and Tony hadn't come together physically, the shadow of suspicion could be enough to bring them before HR again…and Peter  _ really  _ didn't want to risk losing his job.

And that was it, wasn't it? If he didn't want to lose his job, he should get his head on straight and drop all romantic thoughts of Tony from his mind. From this point on, he promised himself, he would steer clear of Tony. One visit to HR should have scared him enough in the first place, but he had been too busy thinking with his cock to—

His phone chimed, and he pulled himself from the pool to check his texts.

_ where are you? _

All promises of removing Tony from his life were immediately revoked, his heart racing as he read and reread the text.

_ i'm at the pool _

Peter glanced nervously over his shoulder like Gladys would appear behind him.

_ are you alone? _

_ yes _

No other texts came through, and Peter began to wonder if Tony was just trying to keep track of his employees.

Then Tony appeared before him.

He had changed into casual dark jeans and a plain black T-shirt. Gone were the sunglasses, nothing to block the intensity of Tony's gaze. The closer he strode toward Peter, the weaker he grew in the knees, bowing beneath those brown eyes.

Tony stepped into his space and made to wrap his arms around him but hesitated. "Can I…?"

Peter nodded, stepping forward into Tony's embrace, sighing as warm, firm arms encircled him. He was suddenly aware that he was dressed only in his swim trunks, his damp, bare chest scratching against Tony's shirt.

Tony pressed a kiss to the top of Peter's head before resting his cheek in his hair. "Today was difficult, being so close to you and not being able to touch."

"Mmm," Peter agreed. "I was worried…" He paused, blushing, wondering if Tony would scorn Peter divulging his true feelings.

"Worried…?" Tony encouraged him to continue the thought.

Taking a deep breath, Peter revealed, "You didn't look at me or speak to me. I began to think it was all a mistake, that I was the only one who wanted…this."

Lips covered his own, and Tony pulled him even further into his embrace. Their kiss stretched on, Tony doing his best to convey his apologies without the use of words. Tony's hand reached into Peter's thick hair, still wet from the pool, and entwined his fingers among the strands.

When Tony broke the kiss, Peter was out of breath. His brain struggled to comprehend Tony’s words as he said, "I'm sorry I couldn't get you alone sooner. Happy has strict orders from Pepper to keep close tabs on me. But even if I’m your boss and HR has said we can’t start a relationship, I want…” Tony trailed off and pulled Peter back into another kiss, his hands gripping Peter’s shoulders tightly. Pulling back once more, he chuckled. “You smell like chlorine.”

Peter glanced down between them. His swim trunks had soaked Tony’s jeans. “I’ve gotten you wet.”

A mischievous smirk pulled at Tony’s lips. “There’s a shower connecting the pool and the sauna. Join me?”


	5. The Bad Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Pepper (and sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who does), but she is mega cold (though rightfully so) in this chapter.

Warm water cascaded over Peter’s head, down his body, and onto Tony’s head. Peter struggled to keep his eyes open, rapidly blinking water from them so he wouldn’t miss a moment of watching Tony’s mouth slide up and down his shaft. His knees were weak, so he leaned back against the shower stall, his fingers loosely tangled in Tony’s hair. For a moment, he was convinced this wasn’t real, that he had delved so far into a daydream that he could no longer separate fantasy from reality.

Tony's lips tightened on Peter's shaft, and Peter let out a deep groan, struggling to keep from forcing his hips forward. Tony ran his hands up the backs of Peter's legs and massaged his ass before pulling his hips flush against his face. Peter threw out a hand to catch himself against the shower wall, a strangled gasp escaping at the feeling of being fully engulfed in Tony's mouth. Tony sucked harshly, the head of Peter’s cock pressed into the back of his throat.

Peter's ex-boyfriends had never been so giving, so he’d been surprised when they'd stepped in the shower and Tony had immediately sunk to his knees. “I’ve been dying to taste you,” Tony growled. He stuck out his tongue and let it lave the cockhead as Peter grew thicker against his tongue.

“You don't have to,” Peter had said, his half-choked words belying his wish that Tony continue.

Tony had glanced up then, his brown eyes searing through Peter and causing his breath to catch in his chest. Water ran down Tony’s face, catching on his eyelashes. His voice was husky as he said, “Trust me, Peter. There’s nothing else in this world I’d rather do.”

And so Peter had leaned back against the cool shower wall and succumbed to absolute pleasure. Tony’s hands continued to knead his ass, alternating between firm strokes and tender caresses. All the while his mouth continued to suck and work at his cock, occasionally pressing his ass to force Peter’s hips against his nose, taking him as far down his throat as he could. Drool dripped down Tony’s chin only to be washed away immediately by the shower.

Tony’s hands spread Peter’s globes and a finger came to rest gently against his hole. Staring up at Peter, he asked, “May I?”

Words caught in Peter’s throat, and he could do no more than nod and press back against the finger.

Tony took Peter back in his mouth and lightly dragged his finger along his crack. He tenderly probed at the hole, but without lube, he didn’t want to risk inserting his finger past the first knuckle.

“Turn around?”

Expecting a cock to press at his entrance, his exes having been semi-negligent with prep, Peter shouted in surprise when he felt a tongue run against him. "Oh!" he cried out, shoving his ass backward toward the sensation. He had never been rimmed before and was quickly overwhelmed.

Tony smirked at the noises he was pulling from Peter, so much better in person than they had been over the phone. He alternated between using the pad of his thumb to press against the hole, teasing it, and using lips and tongue to suck at it, determined to unravel him. He dove in ravenously, wishing he had lube so he could really work him open. Instead, he settled for thrusting his tongue as deep as it would go, his beard scratching against tender flesh as he did so.

Peter’s legs were shaking before Tony pulled back to give him a chance to breathe. Peter's chest heaved as he pulled in deep breaths. Looking up, Tony admired the flush receding down his back and nearly reaching his legs.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Peter turned over his shoulder to look down at Tony, his brown eyes hazy and barely focused, and Tony felt his heart catch in his throat. What had started as one night of intense passion with a stranger had morphed into an obsession and was now…what? What could Tony call what they had? He clearly had a physical appreciation for Peter, but he also had a newfound respect for Peter’s brains through his contributions to the arc reactor project. How far did they both want to take this?

No use dwelling on this now, not while he could be otherwise occupied.

Tony settled back in with his mouth and reached around to take Peter in hand.

“Tony,” Peter moaned, his voice breathy with the intensity.

Moving lower, Tony mouthed at Peter's balls before running his tongue back up the perineum and into his hole. Meanwhile, his hand continued to work Peter, experimenting with his grip to see what would draw the loudest moans from Peter. He could feel precum gathering at the tip, but it was quickly washed away by the shower. Driven by a sudden desire to taste him, Tony directed Peter to turn back around so he could take him back down his throat.

He glanced up at Peter and froze at the sight of his blissed out expression, his eyes squeezed shut and mouth partially agape. By now, the chlorine had been thoroughly rinsed from Peter's body, and the water was starting to chill. Tony stretched to shut off the water and watched as Peter blinked the drops from his eyes.

Tony guided Peter’s hands to the back of his head. “Here’s what you’re going to do, baby boy. I’m going to put you back in my mouth, but I’m going to leave the pace up to you. You ever fucked someone’s throat before, sweetheart?”

Blushing, Peter glanced away. “No.” He bit his lip to keep himself from mentioning that this was only his fourth receiving blowjob ever, his past boyfriends having rarely reciprocated. He was certain Tony wouldn’t judge him, but he wasn’t sure how wise it was to discuss past flames with his dick in someone’s mouth.

“You won’t hurt me,” Tony assured him. “Start slow and keep your hands loose enough that I can pull back if I need to. As you speed up, if I need a break, I’ll tap you on the hip, like this.”

Peter stared down at Tony on his knees, his lips loosely wrapped around his cock. The wet heat felt incredible, and Peter’s hips twitched forward in their own accord. Tony gave an encouraging moan, so Peter did it again more purposefully. The slide in and out of that mouth was blissful, and Peter gripped Tony’s head a little harder. Tony kept his jaw loose, and Peter found it was easy to develop a rhythm.

Tony wrapped his hands behind Peter’s ass and pulled until his nose was pressed into Peter’s pelvis, the head of Peter’s cock pressed against the back of his throat. He moaned as best he could with his mouth full. Sucking dick had always turned him on more than anything had a right to, and he stroked himself roughly to the feeling of Peter's hard, hot cock pistoning in and out of his mouth.

Tony’s knees were sore by the time he heard Peter’s breathing hitch and his thrusts began to lose their rhythm. He pulled back, closed his eyes, and opened his mouth so his tongue was outstretched. “Come on my face, Peter.”

Peter fisted himself. His eyes were squeezed shut, but the image of Tony before him on his knees was seared into his retinas. He could feel a great tidal wave welling up inside him, threatening to crash over him and pull him under. His strokes were erratic, his arm trembling.

The first white wave hit Tony on the chin. He groaned, his hand speeding up to reach his own orgasm. The second wave hit his cheek while the subsequent waves didn’t make it past the end of Peter’s fist. Peter's eyes opened just in time to watch Tony's tongue stretch as far as it could to his cheeks and chin. Tony was still blissed out, teetering right on the edge. Peter stepped back so he had a better view of Tony's hand jerking himself. Within moments, his face contorted before relaxing into a smile as he came.

After catching his breath, Tony stood up and turned the shower on so they could rinse off. He smiled easily at Peter, reaching out to touch his arm, his chest, his stomach. "That was  _ so much better  _ than I could have imagined," he purred.

Peter preened under the words, and he reached out to tangle his fingers in Tony's. "I wouldn't mind getting you on your knees again."

"I'd spend my whole life on my knees before you, gorgeous." He nipped the shell of Peter's ear before turning off the shower and wrapping them in the hotel's towels. "And I wish I could, but it was already hard enough for me to sneak out here. I'm sure Happy's hunting for me."

And just like that, the glass casing of their fantasy world was shattered and Peter was struck with the reality of their situation. This was his  _ boss  _ he snuck off with for a quick fuck in a hotel bathroom. It was bad enough they had already found themselves in an ethical dilemma at Bottom Feeders, but Peter kept returning again and again. Was it really worth it to put his entire career at risk to sneak around with the CEO of his company?

The image of Tony on his knees, tongue eagerly seeking Peter’s seed, would forever be burned in his memories, and Peter realized he’d risk it all again given the chance.

Happy met Tony in the hallway outside his room, and he did not look…well, happy. Tony put on an air of casual ignorance, but he knew Happy wasn’t fooled.

He should have realized it was a trap when Happy didn’t immediately start into him. The door was halfway open before Tony noticed the complete drop in temperature, but by then, Happy was shoving him the rest of the way into the room and closing the door to block his escape. His temporary roommate was nowhere to be found, and in his place was—

“Pepper.”

“Tony.”

Her voice was the chill breeze of the Arctic tundra, rooting Tony in place. His brain worked at a mile a minute trying to come up with an exit strategy. How much did Pepper  _ really  _ know?

Clearly a lot if she had flown all the way out from New York City to meet him in his hotel room.

His normal strategy with Pepper was to try to talk his way out of his messes, but from the leveled look on her face, he thought for once in his life he should wait her out and let her reveal how much shit he was truly in.

“Tony, you  _ promised  _ you wouldn’t use this trip as an excuse to sneak off with your employee.”

“Actually, what I promised was that I wouldn’t build a particle accelerator as an excuse to sneak off with Peter, and _technically_ I never said the words ‘I promise.’”

Ah, fuck. His vows of silence never lasted long.

Pepper’s scowl drained away to be replaced by fatalistic acceptance. She poured herself onto the bed, her icy countenance having melted into water. “Tony…” She sighed and wearily rubbed her temples. “I know ethics has never been your strong suit, but this really is way over the line. Gladys has already turned a summary of the inquiry over to the U.S. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission—which you’d already  _ know  _ if you actually read your emails. If you’ve had  _ any  _ sexual contact with that boy since—”

“Peter.” Tony’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“What?”

He cleared his throat and cocked his chin proudly. “His  _ name _ is not ‘that boy.’ It’s Peter.”

What had once been a melted puddle was soon a roaring furnace. Pepper rose from the edge of the bed, glowering, and prodded Tony’s chest with her finger. He took a step backward instinctually and noted his back would be pressed to the wall a lot sooner than he’d like.  _ “Peter,”  _ she snarled, “is the name of your  _ employee  _ who you’ve been explicitly told to stay away from. All it takes is for him to make  _ one  _ accusation towards you, and—”

“He wouldn’t do that!” Tony protested. “We—”

Too late, Tony clamped his mouth shut.

Pepper  _ shoved _ him.

Tony stumbled, surprised. Pepper had lost her temper with him plenty of times, but their fights usually ended with her exasperatedly throwing her hands in the air and Tony buying her anything strawberry as an apology gift, knowing full well that she was allergic.  _ Never  _ had she laid her hands on him.  _ Never  _ had he seen her so mad.

_ “You slept with him, didn’t you?”  _ she shrieked, her fiery hair shaking loose from its bun in her anger. “Like a  _ child,  _ you were told ‘no,’ and you just  _ had to  _ do it anyway! Well, Tony, this wasn’t another game to be played. This is your  _ company  _ at stake! And you threw it all away for a one-night stand with an employee twenty years your junior! I hope he was worth it.”

Tony stood his ground and drew himself up. “He was worth it. He  _ is  _ worth it. Pepper, this wasn’t a one-night stand. At least, not for me. And…I don’t think for him, either.”

Pepper deflated. “Oh, Tony… My hopeless romantic… What am I going to do with you?”

Tony wasn’t in the lobby to greet them the following morning, and Peter felt a surge of panic. Did Tony regret what they did? Was he already on his way back to New York, ready to ditch a multi-million dollar project just so he didn't have to face Peter the morning after? He thought about asking Happy where Tony was, but the hardened glare Happy sent him had him shrinking behind Bruce and Hope.

Luckily, Stephen was first to bring up the subject. "It's bad enough Tony kicked me out of my room last night, but now he's not even here this morning?"

Stephen's complaints continued, but Peter's racing thoughts drowned him out. What did he mean that Tony kicked him out of his room? Did Tony meet with someone else after his time with Peter? Did they have sex? Did he mean so little to Tony that he was barely a side piece?

“Calm your thoughts, Peter,” he chided himself. “Don’t get worked up over nothing. I'm sure there's a logical explanation."

And there was. When they arrived at Fermilab, Tony was already there, his assistant Pepper at his side. Tony's sunglasses were back on, hiding his expressive eyes, but Pepper’s face had no problems letting Peter know exactly what she was thinking.

It was all well and good to sneak around with Tony and pretend the world was frozen around them, that their actions had no consequences, but it was quite another to come face-to-face with the harsh reality that was Pepper Potts boring into your soul and reminding you of all those hours you spent in your business ethics seminars the first few weeks of work. Was getting a blow job from your boss worth the possibility of getting fired?

For Tony? Peter realized he’d watch the world burn for Tony Stark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New update schedule!! I finished writing this story, so a new chapter will be released each week. I also got super excited that I was finished that I couldn't wait until Monday so I changed it to Fridays :3


	6. Do I Wanna Know?

Peter sat across from Pepper at the coffee shop with the weight of his breakfast sitting heavily in his stomach and threatening to come up. He should have known he wouldn’t get off scot free when Pepper didn’t confront him in Batavia. Though she had stuck by Tony’s side through the rest of the trip, seemingly doing nothing more than leveling acid glowers in Peter’s direction, in reality she had lain in wait like a spider for Peter to fall into the trap she had set back in New York. His first day back to work, Pepper had been waiting by his desk with a pinched smile.

The only silver lining was that it wasn't Gladys waiting for him with pink slip in hand.

"Meet me for coffee on your lunch break."

It wasn't an invitation; it wasn't a request. Peter nodded, not trusting himself to speak. For a moment, he wondered if he could sneak out early and hide, but he knew that was a lost cause. Things would be worse for him if Pepper had to hunt him down.

Pepper took a dainty sip from her coffee and looked at him over the rim. She seemed to be studying him, to be looking for some hint of something. Peter wasn’t sure what she wanted to see, and, if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t think he had it anyway.

“Did you enjoy your time in Batavia?”

If that wasn’t a loaded question, Peter didn’t know what was.

“It’s a shame that the experiment didn’t work out,” Pepper added. “Tony’s been locked up in his workshop since we got back poring over the data to see where it went wrong.”

At the mention of Tony’s name, Peter suddenly became very self-conscious about exactly how he was sitting. He raised his coffee cup tentatively to his lips, his hands shaking imperceptibly, in an attempt to cover whatever his thoughts might betray to Pepper. She seemed to be waiting for some kind of response so he gave a non-committal, “Is that so?”

After nearly a minute of silence, Pepper finally let out a deep sigh. Placing her coffee cup firmly on the table, she spoke pointedly. “Tony didn’t tell me exactly what happened at the hotel, but I have a fairly good idea of what the two of you were up to. On the one hand, you’re both adults and can do what you want, even if it is sleeping with your boss. On the other hand, Tony is my friend, and I’ve seen him get hurt too many times to just sit back when someone walks into his life. Tony can be like a stick of dynamite; he burns hot and fast and bright. For most people, it's too much to handle, and they drop him the first chance they get.”

Peter didn’t know what to say. He had scanned Tony’s Wikipedia page and had seen all the scandals, the parties, the women. With a history such as his, he could see where Pepper was coming from, especially since they had met at a club. And they’d—what? Had a few drinks? Danced? Was Peter just another name in Tony’s black book? Once more Peter wondered if he was the only one who wanted something more than just casual sex.

Pepper crossed her legs the other way and leaned away from Peter. Once again she waited for Peter to add to the conversation, but when he remained silent, she said, "Let’s not waste any more time, either mine or Tony’s. What is it that you want? Money? A promotion? Just tell me, and we can get this settled without Tony getting his heart broken.”

Peter felt like he had been kicked out of a moving bus. He gripped his coffee tighter than he meant to, the lid popping off and spilling all over the table. He jerked his hand back in pain before shooting out of his seat. “It’s not like that!”

Peter didn’t realize he had shouted until the manager came over to their table and asked what the problem was. Red in the face, Peter apologized profusely before ducking off to get napkins to clean up the spilled coffee while Pepper assured the manager that everything was fine.

“It’s not like that,” Peter repeated, though much quieter this time. “I’m not some kind of gold digging whore. That first night I met Tony, I didn’t even know who he was.” He finished cleaning his mess and gathered his belongings to leave. “Look, this clearly spiraled further out of control than either Tony or I had expected. But I’m going to keep seeing him, and if that means I need to leave SI, then…well, honestly, I probably should have done that to start with. I’m sure Barritech will take me back. But if you knew me at all, you’d never accuse me of purposely breaking Tony’s heart.”

“Wait.”

Part of Peter wanted to walk out the door, and if he never saw Pepper again, he couldn’t be happier. But he hesitated a second too long, and when he glanced back, he saw the look of sincerity in her eyes. Cautiously, he sat back in his chair, though he remained perched on the edge, ready to flee at a moment’s notice.

“I apologize for making assumptions and accusations, but when it comes to Tony, I’m once bitten twice shy. This isn’t the first time I’ve sat down with someone Tony is interested in, and all but you have taken the money.”

Peter relaxed further in his chair. “I really like him, Pepper. He’s… We haven’t known each other long, but he’s…passionate. Thrilling. And he already treats me far better than any of my past boyfriends.”

“Well, I have to say, you two went about this in the stupidest way possible.”

“Fair.”

She drained the last of her coffee before walking with Peter to the door. It had started to rain, and she held up her umbrella for both of them. “I really hope you know what you're doing, Peter…though I highly suspect that you don't."

Gladys removed her glasses and rubbed her temples. “Ms. Potts, I have to say that right now I very much feel like a chaperone at a middle school dance. Though, I really shouldn’t be surprised Mr. Stark is the reason I’ll be working late tonight.”

“Well, don’t work yourself too hard, Gladys. You know Tony. The novelty that is Peter Parker may well be worn off by this time next week. I mean, I love Tony, but things that don’t stay exciting don’t always hold his attention span for long.”

“And did you get a good read on Mr. Parker? What do you think he wants out of all this?”

“Honestly? I think that poor boy might actually be in love.”

Tony knew he was being childish, and maybe a little petty, having locked himself into his workshop ever since the return from Batavia nearly a week before. He had hidden behind Pepper while they conducted their experiments, each one a more spectacular failure than the previous. The more failures they had, the more downtrodden their group became, and the harder it was for Tony to strike up a conversation with Peter. Maybe, he lied to himself, if one thing had gone right, it would have given him an excuse to approach Peter. Maybe even pull him into a deep kiss, in front of Pepper, in front of everyone.

But it hadn’t happened, and Peter hadn’t approached him, either.

“What did I do wrong?” Tony asked himself, then quickly plunged himself back into his work when his self-sabotaging brain began compiling a list.

“I thought things were going well, but what did we really have apart from a few grope sessions and a blowjob? Maybe that’s all Peter wanted out of this. After all, we never discussed taking things any further than that.

“What went wrong?”

He pretended the question was about the failed experiments at Fermilab and not about his botched attempt at a relationship with Peter.

Peter’s finger hovered over the call button. He should call Tony and tell him that he met with Pepper, but did Tony even  _ want  _ to speak to him? They hadn’t said two words to each other since their rendezvous in the hotel showers. Was that all that Tony wanted? It’s not like either of them had indicated they wanted anything other than sex.

He should call Tony; he really should. He should tell him… 

His screen timed out, and he was left staring at his reflection, his thumb still hovering over where Tony’s number should be.

“I made it quite clear the last time you were both in here that I never wanted to see either of you again, yet here we are.”

They were back in the conference room, lawyers, Pepper, Gladys, and all. Tony sat with a posture of forced relaxation, looking pointedly anywhere except Peter. Though his DITA sunglasses were switched for a pair of Ediths, Peter still couldn't see his expression through the lenses. Peter noted that the gray of his suit and cornflower blue of his shirt matched the colors in Peppers dress and wondered if it was a coincidence or not.

“I also recall telling you that transparency was essential, yet here we are.

“Ms. Potts and I have spoken, and we’ve determined that if the two of you are not to be trusted—and you’ve proven  _ that  _ about one hundred times over—then we will force you through the proper channels. Interoffice romance isn’t  _ illegal, _ but there is assuredly a right way and a very, very, very wrong way to go about it. Now if you two  _ insist _ on seeing one another—and  _ please _ spare me the sordid details this time around—then you’ll need to set up some boundaries as well as be open about your relationship.”

“If you can call it a relationship,” Pepper amended.

Peter felt Tony's gaze swing in his direction, though hidden behind his sunglasses. He dropped his own gaze to the tabletop, fearful of what Tony might have to say in response to Pepper's comment.

"Regardless," Gladys continued, not giving either of them a chance to speak, "we are all bound by company policy. You of all people, Mr. Stark, should be aware of such, seeing as how it  _ is  _ your company.”

Tony’s phone rang. After glancing at the caller ID, he stood and said, “You are correct that it is my company, which means I need to take this call. Just let me know where to sign.”

“Mr. Stark—”

The door closed behind him. Six pairs of eyes swung to Peter, and he slouched further in his chair, wishing he could disappear like Tony had.

Peter was losing weight. He felt too nauseous for breakfast, still felt queasy around lunch, and only picked at his meal at dinner. It had been three weeks since Batavia, and he had neither seen nor spoken to Tony.

Yet he still wore Tony's shirts to bed.

"Just text him," MJ coaxed as she tried to force feed him a turkey sandwich. "It doesn't even need to be a long text. Just a 'hey' or a 'you up.'"

Peter mulled it over as he thumbed Tony's contact open on his phone. “Wouldn’t it be weird if he got a message from me out of nowhere after all this time?”

“The more time you spend not texting him, the weirder it gets.” MJ sighed and abandoned the sandwich in order to curl up with Peter on the couch. “Look, you’re both adults. If you want something, you’re going to have to talk to each other about it. Besides, what’s the worst that would happen?”

Peter sniffed and curled further into MJ’s side, pulling the blanket off the back of the couch to cover the both of them. “The worst? He could say he never wants to see me again.”

“Yeah? And how is that worse than what’s going on now? You haven’t seen him in weeks anyway. And the best case scenario…he could want to see you  _ right now _ and hasn’t texted you because you haven’t texted  _ him.” _

Peter grumbled and pulled the blanket over his head.

Tony rarely slept well, but this may have been a new record. Rhodey finally managed to coax him out of the workshop and into the living room where he turned on the TV for background noise. He fluffed a pillow and coaxed Tony into laying his head in his lap.

“Tones, if you’re this miserable, just call him. Running away is only going to make things worse. Besides, Pepper went through all that trouble to get HR to give their blessing. The least you can do is text him.”

“He hasn’t texted me,” Tony mumbled into Rhodey’s lap.

Rhodey smacked him. “What are you, twelve? That’s not how this works. You’re the one who—God, I can’t believe I’m saying this—approached him for sex, then completely ignored him the following day. He probably thinks that once you sucked him off, you were done with him. You never indicated that you wanted anything other than a fuck buddy. You’re only hurting your own feelings. Tony, are you even listening?”

Tony’s quiet snore let Rhodey know that Tony had drifted off. With a soft smile, he drew a blanket over Tony and adjusted the pillow under his head. Tony shifted and moaned before falling into a deeper sleep.


	7. R U Mine?

Peter was unpleasantly tipsy, having drunk several margaritas made with cheap tequila before MJ tricked him into going out. Thinking they were spending the night drinking at home, and more than a little eager to pity drink, he hadn't been paying attention to how many he imbibed, which caused him to be easily coaxed into the back of an Uber without much question. They were parked in front of Bottom Feeders before Peter realized what MJ was up to.

"No, no, no," Peter protested. "I am  _ not  _ in the mood for clubbing!"

The Uber had already pulled away, and MJ shrugged. "You have been moping in our apartment for over a month. I don't care if you meet someone to hook up with tonight or just sulk in the corner, but you being cooped up inside for weeks on end is not healthy."

"I wasn't moping," Peter grumbled. Louder he added, "I'm not even dressed for clubbing."

MJ wore a pained grimace before she quickly wiped it away. Peter had been wearing Tony's Metallica shirt nearly every day—the  _ first  _ shirt, the one Tony had given him at Bottom Feeders. Not the…stained one. After three solid weeks of wearing it around the apartment, MJ had finally coerced him into washing it.

"But it will lose its smell," Peter had griped.

MJ wrinkled her nose. "You're an idiot if you think his cologne hasn't already been covered by your stench. Fucking wash the shirt, Peter."

"It's fine, Peter," MJ said, gesturing at his outfit. "Besides, if you're that bothered by it, just take your clothes off. You won't be the only half naked twink in there."

Grumbling some more, Peter reluctantly followed MJ into the club and was immediately blasted by the music. Already feeling queasy from the cheap booze, he held his head in his hands. "I need to get some water," he shouted to MJ over the music and left her to go to the bar.

"You look like shit," said the bartender.

Peter scowled. He and the bartender, Flash Thompson, had gone to high school together, and apparently he was still just as big of an asshole.

"Just get me a water," Peter scowled.

A figure appeared beside Peter, and he groaned, not wanting to deal with getting hit on at the moment. He turned his back to the guy and fumed when he had the nerve to tap him on the shoulder. He whirled, ready to bite the guy's head off, when he realized he recognized him.

"Happy?" Peter gasped. "Does that mean…?" He looked around but didn't see him. "Is…Tony here?"

Happy shifted anxiously. "He's here, but we have a booth near the back. I just happened to be coming to the bar when I saw you come in with your friend. I… Look, Tony is absolutely miserable, but I know he won't admit it's because he's pining for you. I don't know what happened between the two of you, but if you're mad at him—"

"I'm not mad at him," Peter cut in. "I just…didn't know how to initiate a conversation. And when he didn't call me, either, we just kind of…drifted apart."

"I'll be honest, Tony's an idiot. I love him, but he's an idiot. He's absolutely stuck on you, so if you still have any kind of feelings for him, I beg you. Go make up with him. This is the first time I've been able to drag him out of the house since Batavia. He's been locked up in his workshop for a month."

Peter glanced toward the back of the club, but with the lights as low as they were, he couldn't see Tony. "I wouldn't know what to say."

Happy snorted, then smiled abashedly to cover it up. "Sorry. It's just that Pepper said you were just as clueless as he is, and—nevermind. Just go over there. Knowing Tony, he'll be fine with doing all the talking."

Biting his lower lip nervously, Peter teetered on the balls of his feet, debating what he should do. From the corner of his eye, he saw MJ smiling brilliantly at him, giving him two thumbs up. His feet had already brought him halfway to the back of the club before he realized MJ had no clue what Happy looked like, and for the life of him, he had no idea why she signaled him like that.

His breath caught in his throat when he recognized Tony. He was sitting dejectedly in the booth, slouched over and swirling a glass of amber liquid. He didn't even look up when Peter approached the table, sighing forlornly and burying his head in his arms.

"Happy, this was a terrible idea. Just take me home. It reminds me too much of the first night we met."

Peter slid into the booth beside Tony. He still didn't know what to say, so he went with, "Hello."

Tony slowly picked up his head. His eyes were droopy and unfocussed. "Great. Now I'm hallucinating." He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Happy, I hope you brought some water."

"I'm not Happy."

"I'm not happy, either." He lowered his hands and blinked slowly. His eyes drank in the sight of Peter before him. As the silence stretched, Peter's stomach turned sour.

"I never should have come back here," he chided himself, "and I  _ really  _ shouldn't have drunk that fourth margarita."

"You're wearing my shirt."

Peter fiddled with the hem and dropped his gaze. "It…reminds me of you."

When he looked back up, Tony was leaning closer, a salacious grin spreading across his lips. His voice was a purr when he repeated, "You're wearing my shirt."

Peter leaned into Tony's space and inhaled, breathing in sage and sandalwood. His cock thrummed happily in remembrance of their first night on the dance floor. Peter looked up at Tony through long eyelashes, lips aching to mark up Tony's skin, and demanded, "Dance with me."

Tony surged forward, fervently kissing Peter. His tongue laved against Peter's as his hands dug into his upper arms. Peter melted against Tony, eager to throw himself into the burning depths. A high pitched keen worked its way out of his throat as he ached to press even closer to Tony.

Tony pulled back just far enough to rumble, "I missed you," before tilting into Peter's mouth once more.

Peter's lips were flushed red by the time they finally parted, and he donned a sloppy grin. "Come on. Dance with me. I want to feel your hands on me."

"Then you'd better take my shirt off because I'm going to mess you up, baby boy."

Teasing at the hem, Peter said, "Maybe I  _ want  _ you to mess the shirt up. Then I'd have two…"

The noise that drew from Tony made Peter’s head swim. Without even realizing he had done it, he had climbed into Tony’s lap, arms slung around his neck and hips pushing insatiably forward. His lips zeroed in on Tony’s neck and he sucked—hard. Tony made that noise again and rocked up to meet Peter’s erratic thrusts.

Tony’s thumbs hooked into the belt loops of Peter’s jeans, and he tilted his head to the side to allow Peter better access to his neck. “I’m so fucking stupid. I should have just called you. But I thought…”

Peter let his teeth graze against Tony’s neck, nipping right behind the ear, and he lost his train of thought.

“Wanna put my mouth all over you,” Peter murmured.

Peter’s jeans were tight, but Tony managed to fit his hand down the back, groping as much of Peter’s ass as would fit in his hand. The girth of his arm stopped him from reaching too far, but he was able to just barely brush Peter’s hole with the tip of his finger. “I want to be inside you so bad, baby boy.”

Peter shivered and ground back against Tony, aching to feel that finger deeper inside instead of barely teasing the rim. His eyes flickered to the bathroom, and Tony followed his gaze.

“Well, it’s definitely not the most romantic spot in town…but from our track record, I’d say it’s par for the course.”

Sliding off Tony's lap, erection pressing painfully against denim, Peter held his hand out for Tony before leading him to the bathrooms. The club itself rarely had a clean vibe to it (and the bathrooms were no better) but they were far past caring. There was another couple making out in the bathroom, but Tony and Peter ignored them as they headed for a back stall.

Closing and locking the stall door, Peter unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down to mid thigh before throwing himself back onto Tony's lips. He ground against Tony's leg as his hands roughly tugged at Tony's shirt.

"So eager for me," Tony encouraged. "How do you want me?"

"Inside me."

Tony chuckled. "I’ve been dreaming about that for so long, baby boy."

Impatient for more contact, Peter sank to his knees and mouthed at Tony's cock trapped in its denim prison. Tony fumbled at his zipper, eager to have Peter on him. As Tony pushed his jeans down, Peter took the elastic band of Tony's briefs between his teeth and pulled the underwear down, purposely letting Tony's cock drag against the side of his face. He nosed at Tony's balls, licking and sucking, reveling in the idea of finally being this close to Tony after so many weeks.

“Not that I’m complaining, but I thought you wanted me to fuck you. It’s going to be difficult for me to do that with you all the way down there.”

Peter slid Tony’s cock in his mouth before letting his eyes travel up and up and connecting with Tony’s. He sucked deep and hard, Tony’s cockhead pressing into the back of his throat and his nose touching his pelvis. Tony's knees buckled at the sight, and he scrabbled at the wall behind him to hold himself up.

"Holy shit, beautiful. Ah… I can’t believe you can take all of me like that."

Peter continued to try and pull as much of Tony's cock down his throat as he could. His muscles ached in anticipation of feeling Tony inside him, and his cock throbbed in need. His underwear felt soaked from the precum flowing from his tip, and he gave in to the urge to give himself a few rough strokes to take off the edge.

After several minutes, Tony pulled back, breathing heavily. "If you still want me to fuck you, you'll need to stop before our time together is cut quite short."

Peter smirked before leaning forward and kissing Tony's hip bone. Looking up between his lashes, he asked, "Did I do good, daddy?"

"Fuckin' A, what did I do to deserve you? Yes, beautiful, you did the best job. Now, come here." He pulled Peter to his feet and into a kiss, tasting his own salty precum on Peter's lips. Glancing around the stall, he seemed to come in to himself. "Peter, wow, we really got out of control. I really wanted our first time together to be in a bed, or at least somewhere private, but we keep, uh…"

Peter was placing slow kisses down his neck, taking his time on each one. "You've thought about us together?"

Tony shivered under the kisses, his brain struggling to remember what he was talking about. "Yeah, of course I did. You're…oh, fuck… You're really intoxicating. I can't seem to keep my thoughts away from you."

A tender kiss to the lips before Peter pulled back, smiling. "You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that. After Batavia, when you didn't call, I… I thought you… Well, we never really said what we were to each other, and I guess I stupidly thought—"

Tony cupped the back of Peter's head and pulled him to his chest. "I really fucked up, didn't I? I never meant to make you feel like you weren't wanted. I also thought that you—"

The door to the bathroom opened, briefly filling the space with ostentatiously loud music. They froze, once more aware that they were making out in the club bathroom. Tony made to reach for the lock on the stall door when Peter caught his wrist.

"I believe you were going to fuck me."

Tony met his eyes and cocked an eyebrow. "Well, yeah, but—"

Peter slotted his body against Tony's, his clothed erection dragging against Tony's hip. "I can't let you walk out of here and risk not talking to you again for another month—"

"—I wouldn't—"

"—so I'm going to fuck you so good you can't help but catch feelings for me."

"Who says I haven't already?"

Peter turned and ground his ass needily into Tony. "You keep saying things like that and I'm going to believe you."

The door opened again and stayed open, filling their stall with pounding bass. Tony wrapped his arms around Peter from behind and moved with the music. "You said you wanted to dance."

Tony's chest seemed to vibrate with the music, and Peter pressed even further into him, rocking his hips and swaying to the beat. "I think I'll be happier with a different kind of dance."

Chuckling, Tony reached down to his pants that were pooled around his ankles. From his wallet he pulled a pack of lube and a condom. Peter eyed it and teased, "Do you always have lube and condoms on hand?"

Abashedly, Tony confessed, "Well, yes and no. Batavia was supposed to go a lot differently, but Pepper caught on to my plans. She even went so far as to create the room assignments. The idea was that the particle reactor was a front for us to go on a nice vacation together and share a room, hence the condom."

"That's…" Peter snatched the lube packet from Tony and tore it open. "I don't want to say that's the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for me, but it's close. Now, are you going to prep me, or do you want me to do it?"

Tony took the lube back from Peter and went down to his knees so he could kiss the back of Peter's thigh. "I love how eager you are." He squeezed lube onto his hand and pushed his first finger in, mesmerized by how it was sucked inside.

Peter braced himself against the wall and pushed his hips backwards. "It's just with you. Something about you makes me completely lose myself and behave in ways I never do."

Another kiss on the back of his thigh, but higher this time. “Well, keep it up, beautiful. But don’t be afraid to speak up if I push you past your limits.” Peter pulsed around his finger, and he pressed another one in. “You’re being so good for daddy. Look at how you just gobble me up.” A kiss to where his ass met his thigh. A crook of his fingers had Peter scrabbling for balance and pressing back farther, mewling in ecstasy. “Fuck yourself on my fingers, baby boy.”

Peter thrust backward, the fingers sliding easily within him. His cock bounced between his legs, a drop of precum flying from the tip to hit the floor. Tony continued to angle his fingers, teasing him, making his head spin. He had never before felt so full, so complete, and suddenly it was all too much. His hand barely touched his cock before he was cumming, groaning Tony’s name as he did so, tensing up before relaxing bonelessly. Tony waited for Peter through his orgasm, smiling dopily as he listened to Peter pant his name again, his fingers still stuffed inside.

Peter turned over his shoulder and gave his hips a wiggle. “It’s a little sensitive, but if you want to, you can still fuck me.”

Tony withdrew his fingers and stood so he could kiss Peter between the shoulderblades. “I’m not going to take advantage of you like that, Peter. We’ll get cleaned up and—”

Frowning, Peter stated, “But you didn’t cum.”

“That’s alright, gorgeous. There’s always—”

Peter slotted himself against Tony’s body and took him in hand, rubbing the tip of his cock against his shirt. “I thought you said you were going to mess me up.”

Tony took him in his arms and kissed him deeply. “I did say that, didn’t I? There were a lot of other things I promised, too, but…this one I think I can still manage. Now get back on your knees and take me down your throat."

Hesitating, Peter asked, "You're sure you won't fuck me?"

"I'm going to fuck that pretty little throat, doll."

Peter fell to his knees and immediately drew Tony into his mouth, laving that velvety skin. Eyes closed, he hummed contentedly as he sucked down Tony's cock. His throat was a little tender from earlier, so he couldn't bring himself to swallow him all the way down and used his hand instead to fist what wasn't in his mouth.

Tony ran his fingers through Peter's hair as he ran a stream of endless praises. "So good, baby boy. So good for daddy. You work my cock just like that. God, you're so pretty when you look up at me. And I look so good in your mouth. Hey, would you stick a finger in my ass?"

"Is there any lube left?"

"Fuck, I don't know. Just—oh, shit, Peter… Yes… That's—!"

At the first taste, Peter pulled Tony from his mouth and let him splatter his shirt, the white spunk following the line of the "A" in the Metallica logo. When Tony caught his breath, he glanced down at Peter still on his knees. "Damn, you look good wearing my colors."


	8. D Is for Dangerous

Peter smiled down at his phone. Before they went their separate ways at Bottom Feeders, Tony had promised he would call or text, and Peter had promised the same thing, neither wanting a repeat of the miscommunication following Batavia. Tony had gotten into the habit of sending selfies throughout the day (and more obscene pictures at night), and Peter enjoyed seeing what the CEO got up to on a daily basis. Since they worked in different buildings, it was rare for Peter to see Tony for more than a handful of minutes, and usually from afar.

In this particular text, Tony had drawn a bowler hat with a flower in it on a small piece of plexiglass. He appeared to be in a fairly serious board meeting, but in the picture, he was holding the plexiglass up so the presenter looked like he was wearing the hat. In the background, he could see Pepper rising from the table to put a stop to Tony's pranks.

Still smiling, he set his phone down on his desk and got back to work. He was supposed to be working on a group project to increase the output of the efficiency of the Stark nuclear power plants, but all he could think about was that damned arc reactor. They really had been on the cusp of something brilliant. The arc reactor could have provided clean, efficient energy for all of the major cities worldwide, if only they could have synthesized a new, stable element at Fermilab. Instead, each attempt at colliding the elements in the particle accelerator had resulted in spectacular failure, and eventually they had to give up their attempts so the real scientists at Fermilab could get back to their own experiments.

He received a ping from one of his coworkers. All nuclear reactors used nuclear fission to produce power, meaning the heat energy produced from splitting a Uranium atom was converted into usable energy. Erik, the coworker, was insisting to the group that they should look into producing power through nuclear fusion, where two Hydrogen isotopes are combined into a Helium isotope to produce energy, the same way in which the sun produced energy. Most scientists had written this method off as dangerous and inefficient, but every once in a while, some hotshot thought he or she could revisit the subject and solve the problems once and for all. Peter chuckled to himself. Wasn't this exactly what he had been doing with the arc reactor? If Howard and Tony Stark couldn't solve the problem, what made Peter think he could—?

_ Hydrogen! _

In a flurry of motion, Peter gathered his belongings and rushed from the office.

"Where are you going?" Shuri called after him.

"I have to see Tony!" he called back.

It was pouring as he exited Tower II, but that didn’t stop him as he raced the two blocks to Tower I. On his phone, he texted,  _ I have to see you—now! _

_ cum to my office, beautiful _

Peter rode the elevator to the top floor, all the while biting his lip anxiously and resisting the urge to push the button several more times.  _ Hydrogen!  _ How could they have missed it after all these years? The answer was simple, obvious: They didn't need a  _ larger  _ element, they needed one that was—

"Smaller!" Peter shouted, bursting through the doors to Tony's office. "Oh. Why are you naked? Should I come back later?"

Tony was laying sprawled across the top of his desk, everything that had been atop it having been shoved to the floor. His clothes were strewn unceremoniously across the room. Tony was obviously unperturbed that it may not have been Peter coming through the door…or that there were floor-to-ceiling windows lining the wall behind him.

"You said you needed to see me," Tony responded by way of explanation.

"Well, yeah, but—about the arc reactor, not…"

Tony was stroking himself, clearly tuning Peter out. “Don’t tell me your text wasn’t an emergency sex summoning. I left a very important meeting for this.”

Peter was cowed. “Tony, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for you to leave a meeting. I just thought—”

Sliding from the desk, Tony prowled towards Peter and drew him into a heated kiss. “Never mind my meeting; I leave them all the time. Now, I put on my Sunday finest for you. Are you going to accept my invitation, or are you going to leave me embarrassingly hard?”

Glancing nervously at the door, Peter whispered, “What if someone walks in?”

“Don’t worry about that. JARVIS won’t let anyone in.”

“Who?”

“Later.”

Peter had gradually melted against Tony and conceded to him slowly removing his suit jacket. “Not the floor,” Peter murmured as he placed gentle kisses on Tony’s neck. “That’s not polyester.”

Tony snorted. “I’ll buy you a whole wardrobe of Italian wool if it gets one wrinkle in it.”

Perfunctorily, Peter removed the remainder of his suit, draping the pieces carefully against the back of a chair. Greeted with flawless skin, Tony was unable to resist running his hands along Peter’s sides, his arms, his chest.

Shivering in the air conditioned office, Peter smiled demurely. “What would you like to do to me, daddy?”

Tony took a step back and took in the whole picture appreciatively. “Bent over my desk would be nice, doll.”

Complying, Peter rested his forearms against the lacquered wood and thrust his hips backward, his legs spread wide. Tony approached from behind, admiring how Peter’s heavy testicles hung as enticingly as forbidden fruit. Half hard, Peter’s cock plumped nicely, pointing at the ground, peeking into view as Tony circled predatorily. One hand reached out to touch, gliding along his back before taking a handful of meaty ass flesh and squeezing.

“Can I fuck you?”

Peter rocked his hips back even further, stretching so his ass stuck out as far as he could manage. Using his hands, he spread his cheeks apart, giving Tony an unimpeded view of his pucker.

"I'll take that as a 'yes.'"

A moment of rustling as Peter held his position as best he could, the air conditioning causing the fine hairs all over his body to stand on end. When a cold finger pressed against his hole, a shiver raced up his spine.

"Oh, baby boy, I didn't realize the lube would be so cold!" Tony apologized.

"No, it's—oh…"

A finger had slipped inside, tender as anything, letting the eager walls pull it within. A slight withdrawal before that finger was once more drawn further inside. “That feel good?”

“So good…”

“You just stay there and let daddy take care of you. Let me know if your legs get tired…”

“Uhn…”

“So hungry, huh? Wish you could see what I could… You’re just pulling me inside. Gonna get you nice and ready for my cock, baby boy. Gonna make it so good for you…”

“I’m ready, daddy!”

Tony chuckled. “So impatient. You’re not even close to ready. You think I’d just shove my way in? I wouldn’t dare ruin you. You’re so perfect. But I will”—he pushed a second finger inside—“make you feel so good in the meantime. How’s that, baby boy? That feel good?”

“A little to the— _ oh,  _ there it is…!”

“Yeah? God, keep moaning like that, and I’ll cum before I even get inside you.”

“I can’t wait for you to mark me up again.”

Tony’s hand stuttered, and he had to take a moment to breathe. “I’ve got to get my mouth on you. Can you lay on your back on the desk, or is that too uncomfortable?”

"I can try it."

After Tony withdrew his hand, Peter laid back on the desk, giggling at the thought of defiling something that undoubtedly cost more than three months' rent. He shimmied so he was lined up exactly with the edge, then propped both feet up so his spread legs displayed everything. Tony replaced his fingers but instead of taking his cock in his mouth like Peter had expected him to, Tony's mouth explored his inner thigh, taking the time to meet every inch of skin. When he had thoroughly worshiped the one thigh, he moved on to the other leg, repeating the process again. His fingers probed and massaged, working Peter open completely, and turning him into a boneless mess.

“Tony…” Peter whined. “Would you please fuck me already?”

“Almost,” Tony promised, letting his beard tickle Peter’s ankle. “How do you feel about feet?”

Peter’s jaw clamped shut. Feet were not his thing, but he wasn’t about to let Tony know that and ruin the mood. He had only made that mistake once in a previous relationship. A previous boyfriend had been really into spanking, but when Peter had mentioned he didn’t like it, the boyfriend got really upset and had threatened to break up. Since then, Peter had gotten into the habit of just letting his boyfriends play out their fetishes and kinks, and if he didn’t like it…well, it would be over eventually.

“Peter?”

“Hmm? Oh, it’s fine. I like it if you like it.”

Tony’s hand stopped, and he carefully withdrew it. He stood and leaned forward until he hovered over Peter, purposefully meeting his eyes. Nervously, Peter looked anywhere but Tony’s face. Had he messed up again?

“This is the second or third time you’ve said something that’s a little concerning to me.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll do better. I promise.” He tried to coax Tony back to him but to no avail.

"I need you to feel comfortable enough to verbalize what you like and don't like. If I do something that you don't like, you need to speak up. Advocate for yourself; no one else will."

"Okay."

"You don't sound convinced."

Peter opened his mouth to reply, but Tony must have sensed his reluctance. "Look, this is clearly a conversation we'll need to have in depth at a later time. Honestly, it's unfair to both of us that we  _ haven't  _ had this conversation yet. But for now, I just need to know are you okay with"—he gestured broadly—"all this. In the moment. Right here." He motioned between the two of them. "Us."

This time Peter didn't hesitate.  _ "Yes." _

"Then we'll put a bookmark in our conversation, and I'll try to keep this as vanilla as possible until we can discuss it further. But…" He kissed Peter tenderly on the lips. "Tell me if something doesn't feel good, doll."

More kisses as Tony worked them back up to the previous level of passion. Peter was urgently rutting against Tony before he finally went back between Peter's legs to finish prepping him. Tony took Peter’s cock in his mouth as he gingerly worked a third finger inside.

"Ah…"

"Good 'ah' or bad 'ah'?"

"A 'I feel really full "ah."' Mmm… Feels good, though."

"Yeah?" He kissed the backs of Peter's thighs. "Gonna get you nice and loose before I fuck you. How bad do you want daddy's cock?"

Peter bucked his hips against Tony's hand. "I've wanted it since I first laid eyes on you. Fuck, I would have let you bend me over on that dance floor at Bottom Feeders and fuck me in front of everyone. Sometimes I fantasize about you surprising me in my office and fucking me while I work.” Peter realized he was rambling but couldn’t stop. “I think about you all the time. I wear your shirt at night while I touch myself.”

“Yeah? You have a nice, big toy that you use? Do you work yourself open wishing it were me there to take care of you, baby boy?”

_ “Yes.  _ A toy just isn’t the same as your hand, and I know your cock is going to be even better—”

Peter broke off with a whine as Tony lined himself up with Peter’s hole. “I’m going to go slow. Tell me if you need to take a break.”

A deep moan tore from Peter as Tony finally fit inside. Tony had spent so much time with prep that he had no problem going all the way in. When he bottomed out, Peter breathlessly asked Tony to wait, already so worked up that his body was aching to cum, like a pressed spring ready to expand.

Tony kissed Peter, also needing a moment to calm down, and he sighed blissfully at the feel of Peter’s tongue against his. Tony had felt on top of the world when Peter said he was the main topic of his fantasies and daydreams. As often as he thought about Peter, he was pleased to know he was thought of in return.

But what was with Peter's deflection earlier? Tony was beginning to piece together that Peter may not have been completely open and honest with him since the beginning of their whirlwind of a relationship. Perhaps Peter hadn't had the healthiest of past sexual experiences. Maybe he never had a relationship where both parties felt comfortable enough to talk things out frankly and healthily. Maybe what Peter needed was an older mentor who was more experienced and willing to teach Peter how to be open and honest about his likes and dislikes. Maybe what he needed…

…was a daddy.

Tony shivered pleasantly as he gazed down at the young man spread beneath him. Peter's head was tilted to the side, his eyes closed and his mouth working as he let out little pants and moans. The fleshy column of his throat was left exposed, begging to be marked up, and Tony felt he had no other choice than to oblige. He started with tender kisses, finding the spots that had Peter squirming just as Tony began to move his hips again. The quicker his thrusts became, the harder he sucked on Peter's neck, aching at the thought of the deep purple marks he intended to leave there. Peter arched into his mouth, turning his head this way and that until Tony finally reached a spot just behind his ear that had him practically shouting in pleasure.

Peter's legs were beginning to tire, having been propped up on the edge of the desk for such a long time, but he wasn't about to give in to a little leg cramp when he finally had Tony inside him. Using the desk as leverage, he pushed into Tony’s thrusts, driving him even deeper inside him.

“So good, Peter… You’re so tight—ah!”

Peter clenched and unclenched as he rocked up into Tony. His hands roamed Tony’s sides and chest as he appreciated the tight, toned flesh. Arousal raced through his body, igniting every nerve ending, as he desperately pressed himself as close to Tony as he could get. "Fill me up, daddy!"

"You're—"

"Uh—"

Tony slammed his lips back against Peter's, desperate to convey his feelings but not yet ready to voice them aloud. His hips stuttered, losing their rhythm, lost completely in the sensation that was Peter Parker. When it became clear he was nearing the edge, he pulled back, panting, squeezing the base of his cock to stave off orgasm for the time being.

"What do you say to moving this over to the wall?"

Peter glanced at the large windows Tony had gestured to and frowned. "What if someone sees?"

"You can't see in these. Only out."

"…You're sure?"

"I designed them that way, so, yes. They're completely opaque from the outside. See? If you turn your head at an angle like this, you can see the different layers of glass, and you can see the tint."

Peter placed his hands on the glass and tilted his head. Tony was right; the glass was tinted. He recalled Tony insisting that if he didn't feel comfortable with something to just speak up, but surely fucking in a club bathroom had a greater risk of being seen than fifty-five stories in the air.

"Go ahead," Peter assented.

Tony kissed him between the shoulderblades, then gripped his hips to position him more comfortably.

And suddenly, Peter was flying.

From this angle, it seemed like the glass had disappeared and that he was soaring past the skyscrapers in Manhattan. His stomach swooped with the illusion, made even more intense by the utterly unreal sensations Tony was pouring into him.

"I'm flying," Peter whispered breathlessly.

"I've got you," Tony replied. "Spread your wings. I'd never let you fall."

The sun shone brilliantly between the clouds, and Peter watched a plane glide seamlessly through the atmosphere. He thought of Icarus and his wax wings and prayed that he himself hadn't flown too close to the sun.

"Where'd you go? Come back."

"I was swinging between the buildings, holding on to a gossamer string.”

“Sounds nice.” Tony kissed Peter’s shoulder. “I get the same feeling when I stare out this window. I feel like there’s an alternate universe somewhere where I fly through the city with a jetpack and just…help people.” He drew Peter into his arms and held him. After several moments, he suggested, “Let’s move over to the couch. I don’t want you thinking about anything other than me.”

They moved over to the couch, and Peter pushed Tony onto his back before straddling his waist. Tony held his cock by the base so Peter could sink down on it. Peter took a few test bounces before settling into a rhythm he could manage. Tony groaned and ran his hands along Peter’s thighs before gripping them tightly as he tried to hold himself in the moment.

Peter held the position as long as he could, the sound of their flesh connecting filling the room. Eventually, he slumped forward onto his hands, taking the pressure off his knees and regaining his sense of balance. Tony caught his lips in a kiss, drawing a throaty groan from Peter.

"I can't get over how you taste, beautiful."

"I can't get over how well you fuck me, daddy."

Tony chuckled. "Of course. I have to take care of my baby boy, don't I?"

Peter ground back against him, pressing Tony as deep into him as he could. "You take  _ very  _ good care of me."

He gasped as Tony thrust upward unexpectedly, taking over the pacing. Tony's arms tightened around Peter's lower back as he pounded upward, wringing the loudest possible moans from Peter. Peter's cock bounced against his stomach, and he gripped it, getting copious precum on his palm in the process.

"Ah—"

Tony slowed down, and Peter took over the pace again, righting himself once more so he rode Tony more properly. He alternated between rolling his hips and bouncing more deliberately, using his legs as leverage.

"How are you feeling, Peter?"

"S—So good…"

Once more, Peter draped forward, his entire body buzzing with anticipation. He shook as he desperately rutted against Tony's cock, mouth slack with the pleasure of it pressing in all the right spots. His hand flew to his cock, and he was unable to keep from jerking furiously, desperately chasing his climax.

“Getting close?”

“Nnh—”

Tony did his best to meet Peter's erratic thrusts, striving to give Peter as much pleasure as possible. He whispered a stream of encouragement directly into Peter’s ear before sucking once more on his neck right behind his ear.

Peter came with a shout, splashing clear up his and Tony’s chests. He panted heavily as he came down, Tony stroking his back and kissing his shoulder before pulling gently out. Bonelessly, Peter rolled onto his side, cradled between Tony’s chest and the couch cushions. Still hard, Tony jacked himself off as he ran his other hand lazily up and down Peter’s side.

Still dazed, Peter made an up and down motion with his hand as he asked, “Want me to do that?”

Tony kissed Peter’s cheek firmly as his hand sped up. “No, doll. You just sit there and look pretty. Maybe let me grope your ass.”

Peter giggled as Tony squeezed him playfully.

They lazily kissed, Peter humming contentedly as Tony worked to bring himself over the edge. His breathing quickened and his hand tightened on Peter’s side as he tensed up, finally spilling over his hand. Taking a moment, Tony got them cleaned up before curling back up on the couch with Peter.

“That was absolutely incredible.” The way Tony said “incredible” was slurred as he started to fall asleep. "You were incredible."

"Mmm…" Peter felt his eyelids growing heavy. Tony was so warm and firm beside him that he knew he'd begin to drift off soon. Part of him nagged at him, that maybe it wasn't the smartest idea to fall asleep completely naked in your boss's office, but the larger part of him had stopped fighting to stay awake.


	9. This House Is a Circus

The sun had moved noticeably across the sky by the time Peter and Tony woke up from their nap. Tony's easy smile allowed Peter to relax back against him, once more ignoring his nagging conscience that said sleeping with your boss in his office during work hours was a fireable offense.

Still naked, Tony made his way to an ornate bar and began pouring himself a drink. "Want anything?" he offered.

Peter almost asked if they should be drinking during work hours, but in for a penny, in for a pound. "Get me something light. A gin and tonic, maybe, but go easy on the gin."

"With lime?"

"Sure."

As Tony mixed their drinks, he stared at Peter, thinking deeply about something. He handed Peter his drink before he said, "For the life of me, I can't remember the reason you came into my office in the first place. Did you say something about the arc reactor?"

Peter nodded, taking a small sip of his gin and tonic and making a firm resolution that that was as much as he would drink. "Yeah, I think I figured it out. Howard Stark's notes suggested that the arc reactor would only work with a heavy element, going so far as to insist that the element hadn't even been discovered yet. Well, there have been over a dozen elements synthesized or discovered since Howard Stark's time, yet we're still no closer to finishing the arc reactor. And if you run the numbers, a heavy element would never work. Just imagine the cost overhead if you have to synthesize an element every time you wanted to install an arc reactor in a new city. It's just not feasible."

Tony sank back onto the couch beside Peter and swirled the ice in his glass. "It's sweet that you'd bring this doom and gloom directly to me, but you really—"

"I'm not done," Peter cut him off. "There is an answer, and it's an incredibly simple one. Everyone was so convinced Howard Stark was correct that no one ever considered the possibility that he was wrong." He glanced at Tony, having forgotten temporarily that Howard was Tony's father. "Sorry. I didn't mean to imply—"

Tony waved his hand to cut him off. "If I could have moved forward the arc reactor project simply by letting the world's top scientists know that Howard Stark wasn't infallible, I would have done so from the very beginning."

Despite his earlier resolve, Peter took another sip of his drink. His body was beginning to flush once more, both from the liquor and from being in such close proximity to Tony. His cock began to stir hopefully, but Peter was determined to discuss his hypothesis about the arc reactor.

"So what if we went the other way? What if we started at the beginning of the periodic table?"

"Hydrogen?"

_ "Hydrogen." _

Tony was silent for several moments. He continued to swirl the ice in his glass, staring unfocussed across the room. Finally, he said, "What do you think, J?"

Peter jumped when an accented voice spoke seemingly from all around them. "It's never been tested before, sir. It would be worth running the scenarios at minimum." As the voice spoke, Peter whipped his head around, trying to locate a monitor, speaker, or camera.

"What—?"

"Peter, meet JARVIS, my AI."

Slack jawed, Peter stared at Tony in awe. "He's  _ incredible!" _

"Thank you, Mr. Parker."

A thought crossed his mind, and he blushed and leaned close to Tony to whisper, "Was he listening the  _ whole time  _ while we—?"

"Nah, the Booty Call Protocol kicks in. The room goes on lockdown, and J discreetly goes offline."

Without thinking, Peter teased, "A whole protocol for hooking up in your office? How many times have you used that?"

"A lot."

An awkward silence followed, Peter's thoughts churning. He had read articles and heard rumors of Tony's playboy past; what did he gain by throwing that dirty laundry between them? Besides, what did exes bear on a current relationship? And were they even in a relationship? Weren't they just…

Fooling around?

Without realizing it, Peter had drained his glass. Tony took it and sauntered back to the bar. Peter didn't protest as he started mixing a refill.

"Simulation complete."

JARVIS' voice filling the room caused Peter to jump again.

Tony abandoned the bar and pulled on his DITA sunglasses. "Talk to me, J."

"Using hydrogen in the arc reactor has produced a stable reaction in 96% of simulations run."

Tony looked like he was reading something behind his sunglasses, his eyes flitting back and forth across the lenses. "It's worth a try, at the very least. Have the parts ordered to my lab." Without further preamble, Tony started getting dressed. Peter didn't realize he had gotten fully hard watching Tony pull expensive fabrics over his skin until Tony turned toward Peter and smirked salaciously. “Like what you see, baby boy?”

Mouth agape, Peter nodded, his eyes riveted to where Tony was buttoning his dress shirt sleeves.

Chuckling, Tony gathered Peter's suit and brought it to him on the couch. "As much as I'd love to go round two, I think it's time I brought you home."

Peter stared in awe for a solid minute before he was able to take a second step into the lab. A large robot rolled over to him and let out several beeps and whistles before zipping back across the lab. Tony watched Peter bemusedly as he took him on the tour, introducing Dum-E and U and explaining several of his projects. Peter soaked in everything wide-eyed, his brain running at a hundred miles an hour and trying to speak even faster.

Tony recognized the familiar ache in his chest as he watched Peter look like a kid on Christmas morning. Always one to fall too hard too fast, he had almost let the "L" word slip earlier. They hadn't even discussed how they were defining their relationship, and here he was, ready to propose.

What if Peter didn't want anything more than casual sex?

"That's why you need to discuss the relationship like actual adults," Pepper had told him nearly a hundred times.

Far too often, though, Tony had ended up with his heart broken in a million pieces. He never did things by halves, and time and again he had proved too much for the other party and had lost them before they'd even begun. He supposed that's why he avoided the "relationship" conversation…

But Peter was different, and he deserved more from Tony.

Finally, Tony steered Peter toward the materials for the arc reactor. Peter fell into building with Tony with ease. The lab had always been Tony's personal, intimate space, and he wasn't sure how he'd feel sharing it with someone else. But it was like Peter had been born for this role, so naturally assisting and directing Tony as if he's been by his side for years.

Time became a blur, the two of them lost, elbows deep, in building the arc reactor. Eventually JARVIS ordered a pizza for them, but neither Peter nor Tony were willing to take a break long enough to do more than take an occasional bite.

And then Tony was laying in the final pieces of the first prototype. They stood way back as Dum-E and U powered it on, and when it didn't explode right away, they cheered and whooped. Safety protocols had been preprogrammed to power it down after thirty seconds, and just as the blue glow faded away, they felt their own energy slowly drain. Yawning, Tony directed Peter to the shower where they quickly washed up before collapsing onto Tony's bed.

When they awoke, Tony was still giddy over the success of the first arc reactor prototype. He hurried Peter through a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast, taking only a black coffee for himself. He bounced eagerly on the balls of his feet before hurrying Peter back into the lab.

The second prototype had as much success as the first. Peter and Tony took notes on different configuration updates before attempting further tries. Tony leaned back in his chair, his joints popping as he stretched.

At some point, Tony must have given Peter a T-shirt and a pair of sweats to change into, but it was all a blur. He grinned lecherously as he let his eyes rove over Peter.

"Fuck, you look good wearing my clothes."

Peter caught Tony's gaze and returned his expression. "I think I look best not wearing any clothes at all."

"I have to confess I've had a recurring fantasy where you fuck me in the lab."

Peter climbed in Tony's lap and slung his arms around his neck. Kissing him, he said, "I like that I'm in your dreams."

Kissing back, Tony suggested, “Want to make my fantasy come true?”

Peter’s eyes lit excitedly. “I don’t know what’s got me harder: the thought of being inside you or the fact that we’ve essentially solved the world’s clean energy problem in your basement.”

“That’s an easy one for me.”

“Yeah?”

“Obviously the arc reactor.”

“Oh, ha, ha. You know, maybe I won’t—unh—”

Tony had slipped his hand down the front of Peter’s sweats and gave a long, slow stroke. He sucked hard on Peter’s already bruised neck before using his tongue to soothe the tender skin. “You were saying?” he teased.

Peter turned his head so Tony had better access to his neck and thrust his hips more purposefully into Tony’s hand. “I don’t remember,” he mumbled. “Something about you letting me ride you in this chair.” When Tony removed his hand from his pants, he whined. “Come back,” he begged.

He met Peter’s eyes and said firmly, “My fantasy is for  _ you  _ to fuck  _ me,  _ not the other way around.”

A low moan escaped Peter’s throat, and his eyes grew hazy with lust. “Oh, Tony… I can…”

A deep kiss. Peter’s hands clutching at Tony’s shirt. Tony’s breath catching in his throat. Tongues clashing. Fingers tangling in silky hair.

Peter slowly worked his way to confessing, “I’ve never fucked anyone before.”

Tony pulled back, concerned. “Oh, shit, I didn’t take your virginity in my office, did I?”

“No, absolutely not. I’ve had sex before. I’ve just never been…you know. The fucker. I’ve always been the fuckee.”

Once again, Tony made a promise to himself to discuss Peter’s previous relationships.

But for the time being, he was determined to get that pink cock deep inside him.

“I’ll walk you through it. Or I can always prep myself.”

“No, I think I’d like to…” He blushed shyly before whispering in Tony’s ear, “I want to finger my daddy.”

_ “Fuck.” _

Tony pushed Peter off his lap and, thrusting aside blueprints and diagrams, directed him onto the workbench. Without bothering to remove the sweatpants, Tony mouthed along the outline of Peter's cock. "You're so good to me, baby. Can't wait to get this inside me."

Peter hesitated. "Really?"

"Really, really. Your cock is so perfect." His hands rubbed against Peter's sweatpants as he continued to talk, occasionally pausing to run his lips and tongue along the fabric as well. "It fits just right in my mouth; it's going to feel incredible in my ass. Mmm… Can't believe I get to be your first. I just want to take care of you, baby boy, treat you like the king you are. Fuck, I'm so hard thinking about you pounding my ass. When you're getting close, I want you to pull out and cum on my puffy hole. Would you do that for daddy?"

"Nnh…"

Tony worked the sweatpants down Peter's hips, guiding him off the workbench momentarily so he could pull them all the way off. He took Peter into his mouth, letting saliva build so he could work up and down more easily. He moaned as he blew Peter, already on the verge of being incomparably blissed out.

Peter threaded his fingers through Tony's hair and tugged, earning a deep groan. He lay back on his elbows and forearms so he could move his hips in time with Tony's mouth.

Pulling back, Tony frowned.

"What's wrong?" Peter asked.

"I don't have any lube in the workshop. And somehow I don't think synthetic oil should be used inside the human body." He placed a kiss on the tip of Peter's dick, a bead of precum sticking to his lips and pulling away in a long string. "Sit tight, beautiful. I'll be right back."

While Peter waited for Tony to return, he finished removing his clothes. They had been in the workshop for who knows how long since breakfast, so he also took time to clean up as best he could in the bathroom. Tony must have done the same because when he returned with the lube, his hair was damp.

Tossing Peter the lube, Tony grinned devilishly. "I can't fucking wait for this, beautiful. I've been dreaming about your cock since that first night we met. Fuck, those pants you were wearing… Do you still have those?"

"Yeah."

"Shit, babe, you need to wear those again sometime. Sit in my lap and let me jerk off to how fucking gorgeous you are, then let me cum on them."

Peter had softened while waiting for Tony to return, but his words had him fully hard once more. He dropped to his knees and took Tony’s cock in his mouth. Tony leaned contentedly against the workbench and watched Peter’s mouth work up and down.

Peter popped open the cap on the lube and poured some in his hand. He knew what he liked when he fingered himself, so this shouldn’t be any different, right?

Right.

He hesitated at the entrance, looking up at Tony for permission, unable to say anything with his mouth still full of cock. Tony smiled down at him and assured, “Go ahead, beautiful. If you do something I don’t like, I’ll let you know.”

Tracing the outer ring felt just like when Peter did it to himself. With a gentle push, he was further in, his finger being squeezed from all around. He sucked harder the farther in his finger went until Tony reminded him to relax.

"You're doing just fine, gorgeous. Now just go in and out with that…mmm, yes, just like that. Hey, ease up on sucking my cock, okay? I don't want to cum too soon. You can add a second finger, babe. Want me to turn around?"

After Tony turned around, Peter found himself face to face with his glorious hole. He had a sudden urge to kiss it, so he did. Tony tensed up, moaning, gripping the edge of the workbench. Peter did it again, just to watch Tony struggle to keep his balance.

The lube was flavored, which confused Peter's tongue momentarily. He ran the flat of his tongue against his hole, remembering how Tony's beard had felt against his skin when he had done this to him. He toyed with the idea of growing a beard before diving more voraciously back into Tony.

"Fuck, Peter, that's good… That's—oh…"

Peter put his finger back in; this time it slid in easily and deeply.

"Fuck, baby, get a second one in there."

Putting in a second finger had Peter nervous he was going to hurt Tony, but those fears were soothed by Tony's moans of encouragement. Knowing what he himself liked, Peter crooked his fingers, going deeper, recognizing immediately when he found Tony's prostate by his high pitched cry.

"Feel good, daddy?"

"Nnh…"

Peter liked the idea of rendering Tony Stark speechless, so he prodded his prostate once more.

"Peter…!"

He thrust his fingers in and out, transfixed by watching it happen. Tony had collapsed onto the workbench, arching backwards to meet those fingers more pointedly. His head rested on the edge of the table as he babbled incoherently.

Peter assumed he must be doing something right, and as his confidence grew, the more bold he became. He scissored his fingers, stroked his walls, and pushed more deeply inside.

"Peter, baby, I need to take a break. Otherwise, I'm going to cum all over the floor."

"I did good, daddy?"

Tony gathered Peter in his arms and kissed him on the temple. "You did so good, baby. Just let me breathe and calm down. Shit. Get yourself lubed up, beautiful, and I'll…" He draped himself back over the workbench, his legs spread and his ass out. "Ready?"

Peter lined himself up and held his breath. He'd had previous boyfriends who had pushed in too swiftly, so he pledged he would go slow for Tony, especially since he wasn't convinced he'd done adequate prep. He pushed forward, but the head of his cock slipped past its intended target. He lined himself up again.

"Relax, baby doll. I can feel your tension from here. If you need a break, or if you've changed your mind—"

"I haven't changed my mind. You're—" He bit his tongue as his true feelings threatened to spill forth. They still hadn't discussed if they were anything more to each other than fuck buddies, and he didn't want to scare Tony away. "Just—"

Tony looked back over his shoulder. "Sorry, Peter, I didn't mean to—oh… A little lower, and you've—ah!"

The head of Peter's cock was inside, and he waited for Tony to give a signal that he was ready to continue. Peter watched Tony's hand clench and unclench before he nodded. "Keep going, baby boy. Fuck, I can't believe you're really—uhn… Ah, wait a second… Mmm… Alright, go ahead, beautiful."

Peter bottomed out and groaned deeply. It really was hard not to pull out and thrust forward with everything he had. Breathing deeply, he said, "Tell me when you're ready."

"I'm ready," Tony said almost immediately. "Fuck, Peter, I've been ready for this for so long. You're everything—" He broke off with a moan as Peter found a rhythm.

Peter realized his eyes were closed, so he forced them open to take in the glorious man beneath him. They had got caught up in each other and had forgotten to disengage the second arc reactor prototype. A blue glow bathed the lab, casting cerulean color across Tony's back. His muscles tensed and relaxed as he thrust backward against Peter's movements, his moans providing harmony to Dum-E and U's occasional whistles and chirps.

Tony shifted his hips purposefully until Peter was hitting his prostate in just the right way. He collapsed from his forearms onto his chest, practically screaming in pleasure.

Peter ran his hands down Tony's sides, feeling his muscles and smooth skin. Part of his brain was convinced this wasn't real, that he'd wake up hard and wanting, cock weeping with desire.

"Fuck, Tony, you're so tight… This is…"

Tony shifted again, and Peter found he was able to thrust more deeply. Holding onto his hips, he built up a quicker pace, losing himself in the sound of skin meeting skin.

"So good, Peter…"

"Tony…"

The workbench rattled beneath them as Tony drove back to meet Peter's thrusts. He never allowed anyone in his workshop, so the idea of Peter taking him on the workbench right after they'd spent days working on the arc reactor prototypes had him frantically writhing beneath his baby boy. And the fact that Peter had never fucked anyone before had him aching in a way he hadn't expected it would.

Unable to hold back much longer, Tony took himself in hand, stroking himself erratically. "Fuck, Peter, so good—"

"You gonna cum soon, daddy?"

"Yeah, getting close—"

Tony keened as Peter shifted again, hitting his prostate from a different angle. His walls clamped unbearably tight around Peter, his own cock drooling in excitement. With an incredible amount of willpower, Tony took his hand off his cock and gripped the edge of the workbench.

"Want to come on your cock, beautiful."

"Tony—"

"I've wanted to come on your cock—for so long—"

"— _ yes _ —"

"You're—"

"I—"

_ "Fuck! Peter!" _

Tony came in spurts, white trails marking the floor. He fell against the wood surface, feeling high as Peter continued to pound into him through his orgasm. His head rolled to the side, a broad smile across his face.

Eventually Peter pulled out in deference to Tony's oversensitivity and jacked himself to completion. Remembering Tony's earlier wish, he aimed at his hole, though in his euphoria, he only made a half-hearted effort.

Tony looked over his shoulder and met his gaze. "Daddy has a favor to ask of you." His voice was still husky, his eyes lust-darkened, as if he hadn't just come on Peter's cock.

Peter smiled easily under Tony's brown eyes and let his hand run down his side, his thumb catching in spend and smearing it down his hip. "Anything for you, Tony."

"Could you…" He hesitated, and Peter realized he had never seen Tony Stark hesitate for even one second. Almost shyly, he continued, "Could you push your semen into my hole?"

A jolt of lightning flashed through Peter's body, and his cock made every effort to rise again. With a groan, he sank to his knees behind Tony and used his tongue to push his own cum into Tony's used hole.

Angled as he was, he watched Tony's leg muscles tense in pleasure as he rocked up onto the balls of his feet. Peter placed a tender kiss first on his entrance then on each cheek before sitting back on his heels and looking admiringly up at Tony.

_ "Anything  _ for you," he reiterated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sponsored content, but in a google search, I came across a brand of lubricant called “Fuck Water” whose slogan is “when spit and courage aren’t enough” and I’m just fucking dying 😆

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please leave a comment and a kudos, if you're so inclined!
> 
> If you liked this story, feel free to check out some of my other works or my [Tumblr](https://mystical-knight-dragon.tumblr.com/) !


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